


Interlude

by Shuufleur



Series: Spideyhunter [3]
Category: Supernatural, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Fade to black sex, Getting Together, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Season/Series 07-08 hiatus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-10 10:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11689605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shuufleur/pseuds/Shuufleur
Summary: Sam's interlude in New York: meeting a Spider, getting hurt, and feeling at home.





	1. Of New York and Superheroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Sam arrived in New York, he should have expected some of it, but it still took him by surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 written for WIP Big Bang 2017, with the awesome art of Kuwlshadows on [LJ](https://kuwlshadow.livejournal.com/89126.html) or on [Tumblr](http://kuwlshadow.tumblr.com/post/163754273743/title-interlude-author-manuushuu-artist).
> 
> In this, Garfield!Peter is in his early-mid-twenties.
> 
> I hope you like it :)

__

_[Kuwlshadow](https://kuwlshadow.livejournal.com/89126.html)'s awesome art._

* * *

  _Their first meeting was bloody._

*

Sam was coming back to the car when he heard something coming from an alley not too far away. Frowning, he grabbed the handle of his gun tucked into his waistband. Even if there weren’t any supernatural creatures here in New York, it didn't mean there was no danger. Sam didn't want to risk someone being mugged if he could do something about it.

He walked along the wall, careful not to make any noises, and keep himself invisible. At the intersection, he leaned against the wall, bracing himself. Once he felt ready, he peered into the alley. Unfortunately, it wasn't well lit, and a lot of garbage stood in the way, creating shadows where there usually weren't. Slowly, Sam crept in the alley toward what he thought was the problem. He raised his gun, wishing he took a gun that could shoot real bullets, not just rock salt. It would hurt but not kill. Hopefully, it was nothing. Maybe it was just cats.

Something on the ground glinted, attracting Sam’s eyes. Behind the dumpster, there were red boots.

Sam aimed the gun at the dumpster. As he got closer, he saw that there was someone slouched on themselves. Sam squinted to see better, but the overall darkness made it difficult to make anything out.

Suddenly, the person moved and moaned, slumped against the wall. They seemed to be favoring their left side. Sam crept closer and frowned. They had some sort... costume? A red and blue suit that looked a bit fancier than the usual Halloween costume. Sam wanted to laugh. New York had some weird habits. True, Sam

_and his brother and their father and Bobby_

was pretty much out of the loop when concerning the “normal” world, but he sure as hell didn't miss the so-called superheroes and their liking to spandex. This has become ridiculous. Sam has seen people trying to imitate them, wearing the same outfit, thinking they could be and do the same. They only put themselves in danger.

Sam must have made a noise somehow because the person’s head bobbed a bit before looking up. Light reverberated on the mask (a mask, fucking hell, Sam thought, they didn't kid when they did something) and showed the big black eyes and the dark webbing on red spandex.

“Spider-Man.” Sam murmured thoughtfully.

Spider-Man (or copycat) jerked and Sam felt his gaze on him. It was a bit freaking Sam out because you could only see the big eyes.

“Spider-Man?” Sam repeated slowly, wanting to be sure.

“Hm. Hi?” A masculine voice replied, slurring a bit. “Sorry. I'll be out of your hair, but first: do you really need the gun?”

Sam squinted a little at the other man (he thought it was a man. Young man, maybe?), and concluded he couldn’t really hurt him right now. He promptly tucked his gun away and knelt. The other man was wounded. Blood seeped from a cut on his left side. Even if he was Spider-Man or a copycat, Sam wasn’t about to leave him here to bleed out.

“You need help?” Sam asked because Spider-Man could have stood up and he didn't. Sam could even hear him breathing too loudly.

“I don't want to sound ungrateful.” Spider-Man said breathless. “But I can manage.”

“You sure?”

He heard Spider-Man sigh and let his head rest on the wall behind him.

“I'm sure.”

Sam frowned and hesitated. Usually, it wasn't his problem. Since... since the Leviathans, Sam had made sure not to get involved in anything or with anyone. It worked. Sometimes. Not tonight, it seemed. Sam felt so lonely that even an injured Spider-Man copycat would be better than being alone in his motel room. Like every night since Dean's... Sam grimaced. No, he didn't like to remember the way his brother looked

_resigned and anguished_

at him before Roman exploded. It had been hard. Sam had nightmares about it for weeks (and still did today).

Sam closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. When he opened his eyes again, Spider-Man wasn't moving anymore.

“Hey, you alright?” Sam asked. No answer. Worry growing, he got closer to the man and put his fingers on the side of Spider-Man’s neck. Sam closed his eyes in relief when he felt a pulsing against his fingers. It was irregular but strong. Sam then inspected the side that was injured. The young man had been stabbed on the left side.

Thankfully, he had just lost consciousness. However, Sam noticed that the bleeding didn't stop. Worrying his lips, Sam took a snap decision. If this was Spider-Man, he wouldn't want to go to the hospital. And if he was human... well, Sam didn't know his chances of surviving this wound. The least he could do was to help him before calling anyone. In either case, he wasn't calling 911. He wasn't sure the guy's activities were.

Sam passed one arm under Spider-Man’s legs and the other in the middle of his back and stood. The young man was surprisingly heavy in his arms.

Sam made sure nobody saw him put Spider-Man inside his car. Once he carefully settled the man on the backseat, he went behind the wheel and drove back to the motel as quickly as possible without breaking any laws.

He didn't need cops coming to him for kidnapping a citizen, or worse, a superhero. The police have become quite overzealous since the alien invasion a few weeks ago. They were tense and reacted quickly. Sam didn’t want to end up on the wrong end of their suspicions (or guns). He wasn't even sure whether the guy would survive the trip.

Sam hadn’t been in New York when the Alien Invasion happened, so he had had trouble believing it at first. He had thought it was the same prank Orson Welles did in the late 30s. It was only when he arrived in the Big Apple that he saw it really happened. The city had still been in shambles.

Usually, Sam didn't go into big cities. Habits inherited from their father and Dean. Strangely enough monsters mostly killed or hurt people in smaller towns, some might even be considered ghost towns. There were also a lot more CCTV in big cities, and if the authorities caught him, he wasn't sure the “I'm dead” card would fly well.

Thirty minutes later, Sam arrived at the motel he was currently staying in, located in the outskirts of the city. He parked the Impala just in front of his room, which was as usual as far away as possible from the entrance to avoid prying eyes and curious clients.

Sam went around the car, took his duffel bag and wondered if he should take some guns with him, in addition to the one he had tucked in his pants. Thinking Spider-Man needed his help immediately decided him. He could get the guns afterward.

Once again, he took Spider-man in his arms, and hauled him up on his shoulder, trying to be mindful of his wound. With one hand, he kept the young man steady and with the other grabbed the keys to open the door. Sam entered the room and switched on the light. The hunter unceremoniously threw his duffel bag on the ground and closed the door with his foot.

The superhero didn’t even stir.

Sam set down Spider-Man on one of the twin beds (old habits die hard) and went to fetch towels that he soaked with warm water. He set them on one of the chairs and put it beside the bed. He retrieved the first aid kit in his duffel bag, put it on the night table. Then, he looked in the fridge and took all the bottles of alcohol he could find. On his way back to the bed, he grabbed the other chair and set it beside the bed.

The hunter opened the first aid kid and took out the scissors. His attention went back to Spider-Man who was still unconscious.

“Alright, I'm sorry in advance for that...” he said as he started to cut through the costume. Sam frowned when despite his efforts the scissors cut nothing.

“Didn't know spandex was that hard to cut, dammit,” he muttered through gritted teeth. Sam sighed and gave up after a few more unsuccessful attempts. Finally, he set the scissors back down and tried to find a way to open that damn suit. When Sam couldn’t find an opening, he sat back down and sighed.

All right, then. He needed to pat the man down. The costume was tight, sticking to the body like a second skin. The hunter wondered how he could move in that stuff. Obviously, he couldn't have shoved any phone, or even an ID in that costume. Pressing his lips together, Sam patted down the pants slightly below his waist where he felt the fabric doubled up. To the naked eye, it was impossible to see, but at the touch, it was obvious. Sam slipped his fingers under the suit with a grimace. The only thing he could do was roll up the fabric until it was well above the wound.

Sam whistled when he saw the stab wound. That guy must be the real deal; anyone human wouldn't have survived this kind of wound. Although, Spider-Man was still losing a lot a blood. Sam wasn’t sure if the guy could heal from a wound that deep without help.

Sam turned toward the kit and took a needle. He ripped open the wrapping, found some thread, and passed it through the eye of the needle. He put it down on a wet towel. With another towel, he carefully wiped off the blood seeping out from the wound. The man in the mask shuddered and whimpered. Sam made a shushing noise, a hand on his head, until he calmed down.

He was glad the superhero was unconscious, and he wanted him to stay that way if possible while he was sewing him up.

When the wound was clean enough, Sam inspected it. It was deep, but it didn't seem to have reached any major internal organs. He took the needle in one hand and a towel in the other and started sewing. It had been quite some time since he had to sew anyone, and Sam was glad that his hands were steady. It was like riding on a bicycle, Sam thought bitterly. He shook his head, reminding himself of the task at hand.

Half an hour later, Sam closed the wound and cut the thread after making a knot. He dressed the wound, took some bandages and wrapped it on the wound around the man's back. Once that was done, Sam threw the needle in the bin, closed the first aid kit, and hung the towels that weren't stained in the bathroom.

He sat on the toilets and passed a hand in his hair. He stayed there for a moment.

_he was tired, so tired_

He went back to the room and took the other bed covers and to cover Spider-Man. Sam settled on the empty bed with his computer. He was curious about this spider guy, and if this was really Spider-Man. Sam threw him a cursory glance and his gaze fell on his masked face. Sam mused that he could remove the mask to know who hid behind this mask. He sighed. No. Even if he was curious, he wouldn't do that to someone who didn't even know where he was.

He looked back at his computer and saw one of the files he didn't have the courage to delete.

Throat closing up, Sam gulped and passed the cursor over the name.

( _Busty Asian Beauties_ – A long time ago, Dean had thought it was hilarious to put the file of his porn on the desktop. Now, Sam couldn't glance at it without a heartache.)

*

Sam frowned and sighed, wiggling on the bed to get in a more comfortable position. His neck, back, and arms were sore as hell and for one moment, he didn’t remember why. As reality sets in, Sam's eyelids flew open and looked at the man who was still sleeping on the other bed. The superhero was slightly snoring, head turned toward Sam.

Sam sat up with a grunt. The soreness of his limbs was worse now that he was moving, but it was also familiar and kind of comforting. It reminded him of cases with Dean.

_sleeping in motels, abandoned houses, the car_

If the room wasn't that silent, Sam wouldn't even have picked up the soft rustling of the sheets.

“Ah, so, you're awake. Good. That means you didn't bleed out.”

“Shit! Damn! I mean, darn it.” Spider-Man squeaked. He scrambled to sit on the bed and let another high noise when the cover fell off and showed his half naked chest. He quickly crossed his arm in an attempt to hide from Sam's gaze, then took the covers back and wrapped them around him like a cocoon.

Sam couldn't stop the smile as he saw his antics. If this was Spider-Man, he didn't seem that dangerous. He was like an awkward and embarrassed young man, Sam deduced when he saw his neck flushing.

“Hm. So. Do we know each other?” Spider-Man asked, and Sam shook his head.

“Not personally. I know you from TV, but that's all.”

“I...” Spider-Man stopped, tilted his head and suddenly straightened. “You're that guy! With the, with the gun!”

Sam saw him tensing slightly as if he was preparing to defend himself. The hunter raised his hands placatingly.

“Yeah, that's me. You were bleeding out, so I brought you here. I didn't think you'd appreciate to end up in the hospital.”

A long silence stretched between them. Sam cleared his throat. The way the superhero could be still was kind of... unnerving, unnatural. Sam almost felt like a prey under the mask's black eyes. Then, the young man opened the blankets to peer inside, made an acknowledgment noise and looked back at Sam.

“Good call,” Spider-Man simply commented. Sam smiled a bit and stood up. He tried to release the tension that accumulated because of the night he spent and work the kinks of his back. He walked to the fridge and opened the door.

“Are you a doctor?”

Sam snorted and looked at Spider-Man.

“No. Are you Spider-Man?” He replied.

“Joker. Are you a nurse?”

“Yes, you are, and no I'm not a nurse. Do I look like a nurse?” Sam asked a bit incredulous.

“Nice stereotyping, Big, Buff and Hot.”

Sam blinked and was going to say something in return, but the young man cut him off.

“Not that I meant to say that out loud. It's a bit my problem. Can't seem to shut up. Oh my god. Did you look at my face?”

Sam was overwhelmed for a few seconds by the whiplash the kid gave him. Once he recovered, Sam couldn’t stop his chuckles.

“Hey! Don't laugh at me. It's not nice to laugh at a wounded man!” Spider-Man whined, holding even more tightly the blankets.

“Sorry, sorry, I just... you're funny.”

Sam chuckled as he took out a bottle of juice. He poured the liquid into two glasses and brought them to Spider-Man.

“Want some? It's not poisoned, I promise.”

Sam couldn't help the small smile gracing his lips.

“I'm not supposed to accept gifts from strangers, you know.”

His gestures betrayed his words though. Quick as lightning, Spider-Man took the glass and drank it in one go. The young man made a satisfied sigh as he gave back the glass to Sam.

“You're thirsty.” Sam commented, amused.

“I should go.” Spider-Man said suddenly.

Sam nodded and drank slowly his own juice. Spider-Man stared at him as if he was waiting for something.

“Do you need help?” Sam asked, eyebrow raised.

“No thanks.”

Sam though he saw a smile through the mask, but he wasn’t sure.

“So, yeah, it’s been a pleasure and all, but…” Spider-Man stood, still clutching at the blanket. “I should go… oh.”

Unsteady on his feet, Spider-Man started to fall. Sam jumped forward to stop his fall but instead got his chest full of webbing.

A beat passed before Spider-Man cleared his throat.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Peter straightened and feebly scratched at the webbing. Obviously, that stuff was stuck. Sam blinked several times, various thoughts flying through his head such as _he’s not that smaller than me,_ and _he smells like leather,_ and _he’s warm._ Sam shook his head to stop thinking _that._ That was creepy.

“I think you’re gonna have to throw that. I’m sorry again.” The young man did seem put out.

“Don’t worry, I have a dozen of shirts like this.” Sam replied in a second state, still longing for that warmth he could feel. It seemed it has been quite some time since he had any closeness with other people.

“Oh, great. I feel much better now.” Spider-Man said dryly. “Now that I know you won’t be bereft of flannel shirts, I should take my leave…” He stopped for a bit and looked down at his uniform. Sam followed his gaze to the faint markings of his abdominals and felt his cheeks burn a little, so he looked up, hoping Spider-Man didn’t notice _._

“I look like I just made a crop top out of my suit. People will talk. My reputation will take a hit. This is awesome. Maybe I can convince Cap to do the same…”

Spider-Man looked up and met Sam’s eyes.

“So, yeah, see you around Big, Buff and Hot.”

Sam huffed as Spider-Man saluted him and got out the motel room.

*

After Sam’s encounter with Spider-Man, the ex-hunter went back to his routine. He’d wake up at 6, go for a run to release a bit of that pent-up energy he had since he stopped hunting, read the newspapers for any supernatural occurrences, sigh with relief when there were none or when another hunter took care of it. Then, he’d check his phone to see if he received any calls. If he had, he’d go to the person’s home, repair what needed to be repaired and go back to the motel.

Today, a regular called him. Mrs. Reynolds was an old lady, living alone in Brooklyn. Her husband died from a heart attack a couple of years ago. Her children lived two hours away, so they couldn’t come as often as before. Sam was her handyman. He’d come around and fix various things in her home; from appliances to plumbing.

He liked her. She was nice to him, and she didn’t mind his silence or his secrets.

“Here you go, Mrs. Reynolds, it’s all new, just for you.”

Sam grunted when he got out of under the sink after he screwed the pipe back on.

“Thank you so much, Sam,” the old lady said with a grateful smile.

The hunter returned the smile and tried to rub a bit of dark traces on his hands with a cloth.

“The pipe was just clogged, so this wasn’t anything serious.”

“I’m sure. But I would have never done it without you.” she said before making an “ah” sound and disappearing in the corridor. Sam stood and tidied up the sink. He gathered his things and looked around one last time to make sure he didn’t forget anything.

Mrs. Reynolds came back just a few seconds later with money in her hand. As usual, Sam wanted to protest because she was always generous, but not today. He had been a bit tight on money lately.

Sam thanked Mrs. Reynolds and left her apartment. Once outside the building, he started to walk toward the Impala he parked not far away. His eyes flickered to an alien-size hole in an abandoned building. Slowly, the city was being rebuild as her old self with a few minor details.

With a rueful smile, Sam remembered how surreal it felt at the time, watching the aliens

_aliens! Dean would just lose his mind if he was- were here_

\- the Chitauris coming down on New York, and the Avengers fighting with all their powers.

Before the invasion, before Sam decided to leave small and quiet towns, he had been drifting, going from town to town, never settling. Nothing could hold him down. He didn’t want to stay more than a few days, a week at most. Then, he’d felt that restless feeling, the memories brushing at the back of his mind, obscuring his vision, his life, ready to take over.

_When Roman exploded, black goo flying everywhere, Sam watched his brother with incredulity._

_When a bright light grew around Dean, Sam closed his eyes._

_When he opened them again, and saw the empty space, Sam’s heart stopped._

_When Dean disappeared, Sam’s world crumbled under his feet._

When the Alien Invasion started, Sam had stopped and watched the destruction like everyone else in the world. He heard the cries, saw the hurt through the TV’s sound system. At that moment, something changed. Something akin to adrenaline flowed in Sam’s veins. And then, the Avengers had arrived and saved the day.

Since Roman’s death, the ex-hunter had been trying to find his footing in a civilian life. He didn’t want to go back to hunting, he couldn’t. But just being a spectator to the invasion and seeing the heroes win sparked a feeling he thought lost forever. Hearing the cheers and the criticisms, seeing the team, it meant something to Sam.

He realized that it wasn’t hunting but helping people that made him feel alive.

So, Sam left small towns for New York, left overflowing memories to create new ones - hopefully better ones, left numbness for realization. He wanted to see aliens, and giant lizards and crazy scientists. He didn’t really know why he wanted to go so badly. He didn’t want to fight anymore. Not really. He left hunting for a reason. But he wanted to help. He wasn’t going to do the same as the superheroes. They were adored and hated by the public, but good people nonetheless.

Sam always thought that it would be easier if people knew about hunters. But after living in New York for several weeks, after seeing how things happen, how people react to otherworldly and very earthly threats wasn’t pretty. These heroes did their best to protect them from aliens, and it didn’t seem enough. After knowing all that, Sam was glad they could hunt almost completely under the radar. Money had always been tight but at least they had the freedom to do what was necessary.

Sam arrived at the motel and went to his room. He threw the keys on the counter and flopped on the bed. He looked at the time and checked his phone again. No other calls. He had the rest of the day for himself. His gaze fell on the bin and the bloody bandages, reminding him of Spider-Man.

Granted, Spider-Man intrigued him. He was a superhero too, but he was different. Sam noticed it after their first encounter. He wasn’t as popular, especially not for the Daily Bugle which seemed to unnecessarily hate on the spider. He was considered as the superhero for ordinary people, although he also took care of big threats like aliens, and lizards. Seeing the Avengers made Sam almost wistful. He wished he could have had something like that with Dean. Support, means. Yet, he was sure it would never have worked. Not with the creatures they dealt with. Aliens were the stuff of the future. The supernatural was the stuff of nightmares.

Shaking his head, Sam admonished himself. He didn’t need to think about that. He left that life months ago. He should be focused on the present. There was nothing left for him in the past.

Sam went about his day as usual. Since this was a slow day, Sam had nothing planned. While waiting for a call for work, he switched on his computer and checked the news. The first few websites weren’t interesting enough, so Sam flipped through news articles more boring each minute before changing website.

He clicked on the Superhero Lookout website which, like its name implied, kept a close watch on superheroes in New York. It was fan-based and involved a lot of butt pictures. Sam didn’t usually visit those sort of websites, but he found himself more… curious about it and a bit more indulgent.

The latest article though caught his attention: apparently, Spider-Man was battling with a creature which looked too much like a werewolf. Sweat prickled on Sam’s neck. There it was, the anticipation. There was also a video on the page, and Sam couldn’t resist clicking on play. When the video finally played, sound burst out of his speakers with almost saturated: screams, cheers and broken glass. Spider-Man was shown narrowly avoiding a swipe from the werewolf before being hit and sent flying across the road. There wasn’t any other Avengers involved.

Sam wasn’t a hunter anymore, but he couldn’t live with himself if he let the superhero fight something he didn’t know on his own. He could help. He had the silver bullets and the guns. He could help.

Decided, Sam stood, closing the computer and started to get ready. On his way out, he slipped a magazine full of silver bullets inside his duffel bag.

Going into town was difficult. Police cars blocked the main roads to Midtown. Paramedics and firefighters were also parked a few miles behind. People were herded farther by cops on foot. Sam might have even seen some military guys in the crowd. He also noticed a few snipers positioned on the buildings nearest to the fight. Sam parked in a narrow street when he realized he couldn’t go farther without being arrested or raising suspicions.

Sam took his gun and the silver bullets. When he got out of the car, what struck him the most was the silence. He couldn’t hear the crowd and wasn’t sure whether the fight was still going on. Suddenly, a crash; it sounded like metal being crushed a hundred times, and then a cry; Spider-Man, a few beats of silence, a howl transforming into a growl and Sam was running as fast as he could.

He knew that sound. He knew what was going to happen in the next few seconds. The werewolf was going to rip Spider-Man’s throat.

Sam almost faced cops who were on coming towards him. He turned right at the last moment. He knew Spider-Man wasn’t that far away. He entered an evacuated building and ran up the stairs four by four. He stopped at one floor and smash open the apartment door. He stopped at one of the windows and was satisfied to it was angled toward the fighting grounds. He wasn’t a sniper, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to shoot from a distance. Sam winced at the odds. Yeah, he wasn’t as reassured as he’d liked to be.

Between the time Sam walked up the stairs, Spider-Man and the werewolf were fighting again.

The superhero swung low, his feet almost touching the ground, full of remains of a brick wall. The werewolf watched him carefully, its arms loose, relaxed. Sam took a chair, opened the window and sat down. He took his gun and inserted the magazine while watching Spider-Man fly over the creature before twisting around and shooting webbing at it. For a moment, the werewolf was imprisoned, arms crossed over his body.

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Sam watched with a slight smile as the superhero darted from left to right to completely envelop the creature with his web. Finally, Spider-Man fell back on his feet slightly kneeling to cushion his fall. He straightened and walked slowly to the creature which was now lying on the ground. It didn’t move when Spider-Man hovered over it.

Suddenly, faster than Sam’s eyes could see, the werewolf broke loose of the webbing and lunged at Spider-Man. It grabbed the hero’s throat and slammed him against the wall across the street. The wall caved in under the strength of the hit. Sam stood, took aim at the back of the werewolf’s head and breathed. The werewolf let Spider-Man go, the young man crumbled to the ground. Sam gritted his teeth, his finger barely touching the trigger. If the superhero didn’t get up soon, Sam wouldn’t hesitate.

The werewolf turned his snout in the air and sniffed. Its whole body stiffened, then turned around. Sam lowered his weapon, surprised. Its piercing eyes were now focused on Sam. The ex-hunter frowned and took a step back. At the same moment, Spider-Man jumped and struck a metal bar through the werewolf’s body with a cry. It howled, twisting around and slashed at Spider-man, sending him flying back into the wall.

Sam fired three quick shots. He couldn’t stay long so as soon as he saw the werewolf wasn’t moving on the ground, Sam left the apartment. He looked back guiltily at the destroyed door and promised himself he’d go back to fix it, free of charge.

On the streets, Sam went back to the Impala and pulled up in one of the of the busiest roads.

Cops were already removing roadblocks.

Something red flashed in Sam’s rear-view mirror and he looked up just in time to see Spider-Man swinging more or less gracefully between buildings.

Sam let a full-fledged smile blossom on his lips.

*

The following days, Sam stayed on the lookout for more werewolves or any other supernatural creatures. He also started to watch more closely Spider-Man’s appearances. What the hero did impressed him. To Sam, every superhero was spectacular (he wasn’t sure _he_ could pull off a suit like they do), but Spider-Man had something else. He was less imposing, less threatening than the other superheroes. He was the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

When he fought, oh boy, it was a pleasure to watch. He had such grace in the air, and he was always trying not to hurt people, even criminals. He usually succeeded in arresting the villain of the week.

Weirdly enough, Sam felt better knowing the young man was actually the superhero, and that he was great at that. Now, their first encounter almost felt like fluke. Clearly, Spider-Man was more than capable of taking care of himself.

For a while, it worked like that: Spider-Man saved the day, and Sam watched him do it between jobs. If Sam was nearby, he’d sometimes lend a hand, but he never stayed long enough for Spider-Man to find out who had been helping him. He almost felt like the superhero’s guardian angel. Sam made a face. Maybe not like an angel.

Reasonably, Sam knew that his _thing_ wouldn’t go unnoticed ultimately. After all, he was shadowing Spider-Man who had a sixth sense about what was happening around him. The thing was the ex-hunter hadn’t planned on was a doombot attack.

Doombots, as in robots created by Doom, some crazy scientist with a cape and a creepy mask. Sometimes, Sam wondered if he would stop being surprised. Probably not, he thought almost laughing uncontrollably.

Demons, he could deal. Angels, werewolves, witches, ghosts, he could deal. But freaking robots? Dean would—

Sam sucked a breath at the pang he felt. Yeah. Dean would have loved it, he mused sadly.

Maybe not if he were in his brother’s shoes right now. He was currently trying to avoid doombot guts and falling glass and debris, while also shepherding people to a relative safety. Sam looked for Spider-Man, but the arachnid superhero was nowhere to be found.

As chaos rained down on New York streets, the Avengers were there to protect them and fight the bots. Sam felt breathless watching the superheroes working flawlessly as a team.

Suddenly, a lamppost cracked under Iron Man’s suit after a doombot threw him violently. The fight left, but the lamppost body groaned slowly, and started to fold in on itself. Someone on his right shouted. Sam saw two children running toward them. They were going to cross path with the falling lamppost. He got out of the makeshift shelter, but before he could run to them, a web stuck to the lamppost, allowing the children to pass safely underneath.

Spider-Man landed briefly and shot a web to his right, already taking off.

When Sam turned to see where the children were, he found them in the arms of adults, probably their parents. Swallowing, the ex-hunter took a step back and watched the fight again. This was all he could do. Guns didn’t work on the bots, they weren’t possessed, they weren’t technically alive. Sam couldn’t do anything against them.

Fifteen minutes later, the fight was finally winding down. There weren’t much doombots left and some superheroes already went back to their base. A few stayed to help the authorities in the cleanup. They always did it, it was never the same superheroes, but they always made a point to help removing the biggest debris off the streets.

Sam couldn’t see Spider-Man anymore, so he left the shelter. Treading carefully between holes, pieces of wall and roofs, he made his way across the street. With all the chaos, smoke and dust, it was hard to see anything of the building. Squinting, the ex-hunter walked closer. There was a hole in the building, dark and filled with dust. A whine grabbed Sam’s attention. It sounded like a baby, a very sick baby. Something moved in his peripheral and Sam gripped his gun. The doombot sprung from behind a half-destroyed desk, whining and whirring. His hand glowed white, powering up.

Sam dodged a second too late. The doombot’s laser clipped him in the leg, sending him flying back into the street. He tried to cushion his fall, and grunted when he brutally hit the pavement, skidding a few meters. His leg throbbed with pain. He was pretty sure he dislocated his shoulder during his fall. His skin hurt from scratches.

He heard the sound of jets and looked up to see the doombot above him, arm charging up again. Sam gritted his teeth as he realized he lost his gun in the meantime. He couldn’t outrun the bot and he was sure he couldn’t survive if he was shot.

He groped around him to find a rock, a pipe, _something_ to bash the bot with. He found a piece of cement, small enough to throw. He knew it wouldn’t be enough, but he had to try. In a desperate attempt, Sam stood as quickly as possible, grimacing in pain, and ran to the doombot. At the same time, the bot’s weapon stopped whining. He was going to get shot in a second.

_Hey brother,_

Sam let a deep breath, his eyes still fixed on the doombot. He wouldn’t stop now.

_I think this is it._

Suddenly, something white flew past him and into the bot’s arm, cloaking the weapon. In a split second, Sam dodged and jumped when he saw it was a web. The weapon fired, made a choking sound and exploded from within. Sam protected himself as bits and pieces of the doombot rained on his head.

Heart racing, the hunter turned back, and watched as Spider-Man swung around the doombot restraining him with his web.

Once he was finished, Spider-Man came up to him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” The superhero sing sang.

“Yeah, wrong time, wrong place, right?”

Chuckling, the hero looked down at Sam’s leg.

“Right, quote _Die Hard_ at me as an attempt to hide the fact this is not the first time you’re in the vicinity.”

Spider-man’s mask raised an eyebrow and Sam felt his cheeks flush of embarrassment. He opened his mouth to deny whatever Spider-Man was implying

_the truth_

But the superhero waved his hand in the air in a dismissive way. Clearly, he didn’t mind Sam’s actions.

“You should take care of it,” he said, pointing at Sam’s wound.

“I will.”

“Be safe, Sam.”

Spider-Man winked and raised his hand.

“Wait!” Sam called, a hand stretched before him.

Spider-Man looked back at him and lowered his arm. He tilted his head, expectant and curious. Sam didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t even sure why he called him. The hunter gulped. Really, now, are you chickening out Sam, said a voice painfully familiar to Dean’s.

Sam closed his eyes. His leg was throbbing fiercely.

“Sam? Are you ok?”

He heard more than he saw Spider-Man walking.

Sure, he wanted to say. He opened his mouth, his vision blurred.

 _Shit,_ he thought as he fell.

The next time he woke up, he was in his motel, his leg bandaged, and the pain almost a faraway memory.

He sat down and took the slip of paper on he saw on the nightstand.

_Feel better Sam._

_I’d hate to think that my favorite stalker is hurting._

_Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man._

Sam smiled, feeling weirdly touched by the words. He pocketed the slip of paper and went back to sleep.

*

_It almost felt like Sam had finally someone to call friend here. He didn’t feel so lonely anymore. He didn’t feel like he was drowning anymore._

*

“Is this actually part of your job description?” Sam asked another day when he stumbled upon Spider-Man lying down in an alley. This time, the hero was conscious, his chest rose up and down at regular intervals.

“What?” the young man said out-of-breath. “Getting hurt? Sure, it happens. Getting upped by some wannabe villains? Always.”

He groaned as he sat up. Sam went to help him.

“Thanks. This is wholly embarrassing, but thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Spider-Man turned his head toward him and observed him. Or at least, Sam felt observed.

“Why are you here? Ah.” Spider-Man paused. “I forgot you were my stalker for a second.”

Sam raised his eyebrows.

“I was on my way to eat something. I just happen to find you. And no, I’m not… stalking you.”

_Not for the usual reasons, at least._

“Though, I’m sure you’re not against it.”

Spider-Man shrugged, saying nothing. Sam smiled. Seeing the superhero was relatively fine, he stood.

“So, wait, you’re going to eat in Manhattan? That’s like… way too expensive.” Spider-Man blurted out.

“I was working nearby,” Sam defended himself even though he didn’t know why.

“Oh. What kind of job? What do you _do_ , Mr. Hunk when you’re not stalking me?”

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes. The young man stood as well, groaning when he stretched to his full height.

“I feel old.” the young man whined.

“You don’t sound old.”

“How do you know? Oh,” he said after a beat, “That’s your job. Stalking me.”

Sam swore he saw Spider-Man’s eyes squint. He shook his head, thinking he might just be tired.

“Yeah, you’re right, absolutely. I’m stalking you. Now that I know you’re OK, I’m just going back home. Bye, Spider-Man.”

He started to turn when the superhero called out to him.

“What about dinner?”

Sam half-smiled, half bit his lip. He was secretly pleased the young man wanted to spend some time with him. He had been sure he was the only one who felt like _this._ But maybe not.

Sam turned back, and said cheekily, “Are you asking me out Mr. Spider?”

Spider-Man stilled as if caught off guard. Sam was afraid he went a bit too far, but then the young man jumped toward him and stuck to the wall near Sam, leaning into him head upside down. He seemed to feel better now.

“Why, do you want it to be a date?”

Sam froze, swallowing. He smiled awkwardly and blushed when Spider-Man cocked his head, dark eyes watching him intently.

“But I wouldn’t say no to food.” He said to try and save the conversation.

Spider-Man crawled back on the ground and stood in front of Sam. His familiar smell struck Sam.

_leather, peppermint_

It made Sam wistful for a moment, reminding him of so many memories spent with his brother in the Impala.

“Alright. I’m game. Let’s go. Think you can follow me? I can carry you…”

“Yeah,” Sam interrupted, “I can follow you by foot, don’t worry.”

Chuckling, Spider-Man lifted his arm and shot a web, whooping as he launched himself into the air. Sam looked at him go and started to walk after him. Spider-Man led him to a diner. Before going in, he dragged Sam into an alley to tell him what to order before taking off. Sam guessed he didn’t want people to see him with him. The hunter understood even though it stung a little.

Sam ordered the food and went back to his motel room where Spider-Man was waiting for him. He put his key in the door, he rolled his eyes when he realized it was already opened. Maybe he should talk about privacy with Spider-Man.

The superhero was lounging spread-eagled on his bed and Sam felt a rush of contentment seeing this. Without a word, he put dinner on the table. Spider-Man appeared silently by his side and started to rummage through the bags.

“Come on, let’s sit down. Be a civilized person, please.” Sam said tongue in cheek.

“Didn’t you know? I’m not civilized, I’m a smart-mouthed superhero with spider powers and sass.”

Sam raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know it was a power.”

Spider-Man nodded.

“It’s a deadly weapon. Criminals have trembled because of my sass.”

Sam chuckled.

“Come on, dig in. Or I’ll eat everything.”

Spider-Man feigned a gasp and peel up the bottom of his mask just beneath his nose. Sam couldn’t help but stare at the visible part of his face: his chin, his cheeks, his lips.

“What? I got something in my teeth?” The young man asked with a quirk of his lips.

Sam blinked and shook his head.

“Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts.” The ex-hunter answered with a slight smile.

_And inappropriate ones at that!_

Spider-Man threw him a cocky smile before wolfing down the food in front of him. Sam could only watch in awe at the quantity the young man inhaled in a few minutes.

“Are you eating this?” Spider-Man asked still chewing. Sam looked at his hamburger, ready to protest, but he looked back at the young hero, his shoulders were slouched and his head low.

He must be exhausted.

“Sure, you can have it.”

Spider-Man hesitated when Sam pushed the burger towards him.

“Are you sure?”

Sam smiled gently, slightly amused.

“Go on. It seems you need it more than me. I’ll order more.”

The hero didn’t waste any more time and mumbled a “thanks” between bites.

Sam huffed and called to order pizza. Many pizzas.

*

Spider-Man started to hang out with Sam when he wasn’t battling villains, helping the Avengers or doing his day job, which Sam didn’t know about.

Usually, the superhero would call Sam to ask him what he was doing. If the ex-hunter was free, he’d swing by. They’d eat, maybe watch a movie. All in all, everything was going great. Sam felt… better. He still dreamt of his last confrontation with Roman, but it was less oppressing. With time came a sort of acceptance.

Spider-Man helped a lot. He never judged, always used his sarcasm and humor to lighten the mood, and sincerely listened. Not that Sam told him much about his life. Just enough to satiate the young man’s curiosity but not enough to send Sam to prison.

It went on for a few weeks. Sam knew he was getting attached, knew somehow New York became a shelter. Strangely enough, he felt safe in the Big Apple and he was happy, actually happy.

For the first time in a long time,

_Since Stanford maybe, or before that_

he felt at peace.

*

One day, Spider-Man came by with a cake and candies, saying there had been a party and he couldn’t eat all that on his own. Sam was pretty sure it was a lie. He’d seen him gulp pounds of food just in under a few minutes. The thought was nice and warmed Sam to the core. He welcomed him without questions.

Sam took out glasses, spoons, plates and some OJ while Spider-Man put the cake and the candies on the table. Once they were settled, Spider-Man didn’t wait to dig in as usual. At that moment, Sam didn't know what took over him. One moment, he was watching the young hero roll up his mask over his mouth to eat the cake, and the next, the hunter grabbed his face and kissed him square on the mouth.

Consciously, Sam knew it was _bad._ Kissing Spider-Man?

 _What the fuck, Sammy_ , said Dean’s voice in his mind. _Warn a guy maybe._

Spider-Man stiffened, seemingly surprised. Sam knew the man behind the mask was far stronger than he looked so he was relieved when he didn’t punch in the face. After a few seconds, Sam broke the chaste kiss and thought appropriate to blush.

(Yeah first time for everything, Dean would have mocked him)

He couldn't see Spider-Man's expression apart from his slack mouth that Sam still wanted to kiss. Again and again and again. The hunter passed his tongue on his lips. They felt dry.

"Sam..." Spider-Man started to say far too serious. "You ruined my cake. Now I can't eat my cake."

The hero scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. Sam blinked and looked down to see the cake splattered on the carpet, bits of cream and cooked dough everywhere.

"Hm. Sorry?" Sam replied, uncertain.

"You better be. You have a debt. You must buy me another cake. That I want to eat. OK? No sudden kiss that throw it on the ground."

"OK. What about... the kiss?" Sam asked after clearing his throat. He was still a bit embarrassed by his outburst.

The young hero stilled and looked at him.

"Well..." he mused, his tone shy. "It wasn't bad." He shrugged, palms upward to show his indecision.

"What? It wasn't bad? It just wasn't bad?"

"Well, you know. You can't be good at everything. Sometimes, you're... average." Spider-Man continued. Another shrug.

Somewhere in his mind, Sam knew this was a bait. He narrowed his eyes and studied the superhero closely. The other man was pretending to look at his nails, whistling a tune. Sam chuckled, and he saw Spider-Man give him a discreet smile before taking the conversation to another subject.

Sam guessed he tried his luck, and Spider-Man wasn’t reciprocating. It was fine, because he knew the young man wouldn’t shun him for it.

Everything went to normal. At least, as normal as a Winchester knowing Spider-Man could be.

*

_But something had to give, right?_

*

Sam locked his room and went to the Impala, keys tinting in his hand. Just as he came up to the car, he stopped in his tracks.

“Hey?” Sam said, almost like a question. Spider-Man was slumped against the car, head resting on the hood.

“Hey back.” The superhero answered, not moving an inch. Sam relaxed knowing he was at least conscious. The hunter walked and knelt silently beside him. Spider-Man raised a little his arms and Sam could see the deep gash on his bicep.

“Do you still play nurse?” the hero asked tiredly but with a smile. Sam eyed him worriedly.

“Are you OK?”

“Ha…” Spider-Man laughed weakly. “’Tis just a scratch.” He shrugged halfheartedly.

Tired and in a bad mood, Sam sighed.

“If it’s just a scratch, why do you come to me?” Sam asked, a bit cold despite himself. Apparently, the hero perceived it as well. He tensed, looking at Sam from below, assessing him, analyzing whether he was a threat or not.

“I just…” the hunter started. He knew he made a mistake when Spider-Man used the car as a crutch to stand.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be here.”

The superhero started to walk away, and Sam couldn’t let him go like that, thinking he wasn’t welcome. Maybe Sam took his rejection worse than he thought?

“Wait… please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Shoulders hunched, the young man stopped nevertheless.

“I’m just wondering why you’re coming to me. I thought the Avengers had their own Med bay? Or something similar?”

Silence stretched, and Sam worried he offended the hero in some way.

Finally, Spider-Man said, “They do. But they don’t know my identity and I’d rather keep it that way.”

He turned around to face Sam.

“Well,” he continued, “Mr. Stark knows who I am, only because he personally recruited me for the Avengers.”

He made a ‘whatever’ gesture.

“OK.” Sam replied simply. Spider-Man stared before walking to Sam’s motel room as if they had just made a tacit agreement. He waited patiently until Sam huffed and let him enter.

“Can I ask you something?” the hunter asked cautiously.

The hero nodded, letting himself fall on Sam’s bed.

“Why don’t you want them to know? You don’t trust them?”

Spider-Man sighed.

“Well, I was young when I became Spider-Man, so it was only logical that I hid my identity. Afterward…”

The young man paused, shrugging with his good arm.

“I guess, it became a habit. Now, it’s mostly for protection. Mine and the people I love.”

Sam felt a prickling on his neck as the hero seemed to stare at him.

“And, well,” Spider-Man continued, now watching the ceiling. “I have enough of Mr. Stark knowing my family, where I live and nagging me whenever he wants.”

At that moment, Sam felt a surge of jealousy toward Tony Stark. It was stupid, but Sam wished he could see Spider-Man, wished he could visit him, talk to him without a mask hiding his face. Maybe hug him and—

Sam interrupted his own trail of thoughts. He wasn’t ready to delve into _that_ yet.

“What about me?” Sam blurted out, blushing slightly. He didn’t mean to say that. And apparently, he took Spider-Man by surprise.

The young man froze but didn’t answer.

“You trust me enough to help you.” The hunter continued.

Spider-Man sighed, and looked at Sam. Even without seeing his face, Sam felt his disappointment, resignation and wariness.

“Sam…”

“No, it’s fine. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

Sam waved in the air, ending the conversation. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed too. He’d thought after all this time… Sam had had Spider-Man’s life in his hands several times these last few weeks.

_Four months since Dean’s –_

But it wasn’t enough, apparently.

Spider-Man sighed.

“I should go.”

“Spider-Man…”

“No, Sam, you’re right. It’s not fair to you. I’ll… go.”

The young hero stood and with a wave left Sam alone in the room. Sam pinched his nose and sat down in a chair.

Dammit, he fucked up.

_*_

_Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as the saying goes._

_Sam wished it wouldn’t._

_*_

In the following days, Spider-Man didn’t text him or pay him a visit. Sam wasn’t worried because he was still watching out for (stalking) the superhero. But still. He felt bad for what happened, and when he tried to talk to the superhero, the young man clearly avoided him. After the fourth time of trying to get him alone, Sam relented a bit. He thought maybe if he gave a little more space to Spider-Man, the young man would come back and talk to him.

He was hoping it wouldn’t be too long, but days passed and there were no signs from Spider-Man. Sam resigned himself and stopped trying to contact the young hero. And wasn’t that sad that a grown man like Sam, a hunter, could feel so bummed out by the fact that a superhero didn’t want to talk to him anymore.

Maybe it was the fact that Spider-Man was the only person he could call friend here in New York. Maybe it was the fact that even though months had passed, Sam still keenly felt Dean’s absence when Spider-Man wasn’t here to soothe it out. Maybe it was the fact he acted more recklessly than before, knowing that Spider-Man might not even be there to save him.

*****

“Hello?”

“Sam Winchester?”

“Who is this?”

“Name’s Amanda, and I need your help.”

“…”

“Please. My partner— my partner died, Garth told me to call you.”

“A hunt?”

“Yes, a Wendigo.”

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“Please, you’re the closest.”

“Where?”

“Wawayanda State Park”

“I’ll be there in two hours.”

“Thank you.”

*

He told Amanda to go home, to bury her partner. He could deal with the Wendigo. This wasn’t the first time.

How wrong was he.

He imagined what would Dean and their father say.

_A seasoned hunter like you getting jumped? Sam, I thought I taught you better._

It started as usual. Sam parked the car near the park’s entrance, took a small handgun filled with silver bullets and started his search. The Wendigo shouldn’t be out during the day. The ex-hunter went to the area Amanda talked about; he found blood, and torn clothes on the ground. Sam closed briefly his eyes, his thoughts going to Amanda and her partner.

Walking around a little, he found the probable nest of the Wendigo, which was currently empty. Unusual. He didn’t find any clues as to where it might be at the time. Maybe Amanda or her partner wounded the creature and it wasn’t strong enough to move. If that was the case, it would make Sam’s job a lot easier.

Since he couldn’t find any other trail of the creature, Sam decided to go back to the motel to take what he needed; a shotgun, silver bullets, and the ingredients to make a cocktail Molotov. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to use the cocktail. The weather was quite dry, and Sam wasn’t keen on setting the forest on fire. As soon as he had everything, he drove back to the park as the sun was coming down.

Perfect, he thought, Just in time for the showdown. He was near the park when something flew past him and almost toppled him over. Sam slammed on the brakes, trying to control the car’s trajectory to avoid a crash. When the car stopped, Sam looked around him, but the thing that crossed his path had disappeared. Or was playing hide and seek. Cautiously, Sam parked the car farther away from the road and got out. He went to the trunk and opened it to grab the shotgun.

Twenty minutes later, Sam found himself leaning behind a tree, panting and cradling his arm. It might be dislocated or broken, he couldn’t tell, but it sure felt like his arm was on fire. He distinctly heard a crack when the beast grabbed him to drag him through the dirt, leaves and twigs. Sam had lost the shotgun, so he used the small knife stashed inside his vest to stab the Wendigo. It howled, tightening its grip before letting him go.

Without the Wendigo’s speed, Sam suddenly slowed down and skidded on the ground. He protected his head, hoping he wouldn’t hit a tree too hard. When he stopped, he looked up at the sky he could see between the trees. Adrenaline beating down his temples, Sam got up and hid behind a tree to get his breath back. He inhaled and exhaled a few times to calm down and looked around. The wendigo was nowhere to be seen.

At a throb of pain more painful than the others, Sam looked at his right arm and saw the deep gashes the wendigo left and how limp half his forearm was.

Yep, definitely broken.

He heard leaves rustling not far from him. Heart beating a little faster, Sam tried to find his shotgun. He found it a few feet away, under a bush.

Just in time it seemed.

When the ex-hunter turned back, the Wendigo was running toward him. Awkwardly, Sam gripped the shotgun with his left arm, but the Wendigo was too fast, it was going to kill Sam, it was ov—

White strings hit the tree in rapid succession beside Sam, blocking successfully the way. The Wendigo stopped abruptly, but it had been too fast. It crashed against the web, bounced a little, and stayed stuck. Sam started to smile. The beast looked at him growling and snarling.

Yeah, he wasn’t alone anymore. He got a better grip on his shotgun and aimed at the creature's head.

Baring its teeth, the Wendigo tried to get away from the restraints. Sam didn’t waste any more time. He shot the creature right between the eyes. The Wendigo howled before slumping on the web, dead.

Spider-Man landed softly on the soil a few feet behind Sam. He didn’t walk closer, he kept his distance. Disappointed and relieved and happy, Sam turned around. The superhero was watching him, with his damn mask hiding what he was thinking. Sometimes, Sam hated his mask, so much.

“What was that?” Spider-Man asked finally, voice tight. It sounded like he was gritting his teeth, as if he was stopping himself from shouting.

Adrenaline decreasing, Sam grimaced as his right arm started to pulse with almost an unbearable pain.

“That's... that's a Wendigo.” Sam replied, words hashed out.

The superhero looked at the body for a moment before going back to Sam. He seemed to want to say something, but the young hero stopped himself.

“That’s… I wasn’t sure you knew how to fire a gun.” Spider-Man said blankly.

“Well, I guess I'm full of surprises,” Sam replied, smiling self-deprecatingly.

The hero sighed, shoulders slouching a bit.

“Sam…”

Spider-Man passed his hands on his mask, and huffed, frustrated. When he looked up, he suddenly froze.

“Spider-Man?”

“It’s human. He’s a man.”

“What?” the ex-hunter said, not following his thoughts process.

The young hero looked at Sam, chilling the ex-hunter. He felt _wary_ of the young man. Spider-Man was tense, threatening, ready to attack as if Sam was the enemy.

“You killed a man, Sam. You shot someone in the head.”

Sam frowned, and licked his lips, trying to find something to say. Anything that wouldn’t alienate Spider-Man.

“He was a Wendigo. He killed people. He was going to kill again, and again, and again. I put an end to it, that’s all.”

Spider-Man scoffed meanly.

“So… you’re an expert now? You knew he was doomed? Sam, you killed a man! And you smiled,” the young hero shouted suddenly, voice cracking at the end. “You smiled when you killed him. I…”

Spider-Man closed his mouth and shook his head.

“Spider-Man.”

The young man raised a hand, silencing him.

“Don’t. I don’t want to hear your excuses. This is…” He looked at Sam, and he felt Spider-Man’s disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He messed up. Again. Just as usual.

“Look… I’m glad you're fine. So I’m just gonna leave it to it, yeah?”

“Spider-Man!” Sam called as the hero ran in the opposite direction.

With a sigh, Sam turned to the dead Wendigo, now a dead man, and muttered, “thanks for ruining that.”

He sighed and walked to the dead body. He needed to burn it before anyone came sniffing around. It was slow going with only one functional arm.

*

Weeks passed since that fateful day, and Sam hadn’t talked to Spider-Man since then. The ex-hunter spent the 4th of July alone in his motel, going through news articles about Spider-Man. He still tried to help the young hero whenever he could, but with a broken arm, and Spider-Man actively avoiding him, he couldn’t do a lot. Although it was breaking Sam’s heart, it was better than not being able to help Spider-Man at all.

He thought he might try to corner the superhero and force him to talk to him, but that spider was fast and evasive. Since Sam didn’t know his real identity, he couldn’t track him down. He wasn’t as stupid as to go to Stark and ask – threaten – him where Spider-Man was. All he had to do was wait.

And because of fate, or destiny, or misfortune, Sam would actually see the young man sooner than expected.

Sam had just been staking out Spider-Man while he stopped a robbery in Manhattan. Satisfied that the superhero didn’t need him, Sam went back to his car. A man approached him. The ex-hunter looked at him and tensed. The new arrival was staring at him with interest, and not of the good kind. He looked trained, professional. His stance was relaxed but ready. Sam faced him with a smile, but internally, he was wary. There was something off about him.

“Hey, how are you?” The man asked with a smirk.

That didn’t sit well with Sam.

“Fine, thanks, you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He answered with a dismissive hand.

“Do you know a Sam Smith? I gather he works around these parts.”

When the stranger said Sam’s alias, he knew something was wrong. Sam Smith didn’t do anything that would garner anyone’s attention.

“I don’t know any Sam Smith. I don’t live here.” Sam shrugged and turned to get to the Impala.

“Don’t play dumb, now. We both know who you are.”

Sam huffed. _No, you didn’t know that._

“So, what do you say? You coming with us?”

Us?

Sam turned back to see that two other men had joined the first one.

“Look,” he said with a smile bordering on smug. “I don’t know what you want, but I’m sure, we can make a deal.”

 _Another deal Sammy?_ Dean’s voice delivered angrily in his mind.

The first man, that Sam called Leader in his head, laughed.

“Right. Maybe you can pay us then?”

_No._

Sam took a deep breath.

“Actually, yes. Anything you want. Name your price.”

_I’ll leave anyway, even though it would break his heart to do so._

While he was talking, the ex-hunter inched little by little to his car. If he could get inside, he could escape. It was the coward’s way, but at this point, Sam knew that three against one wasn’t going to fly. Especially since his right arm wasn’t fully healed yet. The other men were healthy, prepared and knew they had the advantage in the deserted street. Leader smirked and took something out of his waistband. Sam took a step back when he saw the glinting blade of a hunting knife.

_Of course, they were armed._

“Isn’t that a bit of an overkill?” Sam asked rhetorically with a raised eyebrow.

“No.” Leader retorted.

Sam suddenly lunged at the car door, opening it abruptly. The guys shouted and followed him. He had just the time to grab the gun hidden in the glove compartment and aim it at Leader’s head. It efficiently stopped him in his tracks. He held up a hand to stop his companions. One of his henchmen had found a baseball bat in the few seconds Sam had his back turned. The other slipped brass knuckles on his hands. They were now cornering him. Leader seemed to find this funny somehow.

“Don’t do anything stupid with that cowboy.” He guffawed while showing off his knife wielding skills. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Sam smiled insincerely.

“Nah, don’t worry. My hand never shakes when I shoot.”

Something uncertain flickered in Leader’s eyes. He realized that Sam was serious and started to doubt. Good. The ex-hunter couldn’t deny it felt good to see the doubts, the _almost_ fear in people like them. It reminded of hunting and how the Winchester name used to bring terror and respect. Leader gulped and looked at his henchmen. He didn’t look sure of the situation anymore. An implicit conversation passed between them before they apparently took a decision.

“Right,” Leader scoffed. “You didn’t even remove the safety.”

The henchman on his left launched himself at Sam, raising the bat above his head. The movement was slow and predictable. The ex-hunter blocked the hit with his left arm. The henchman gaped, leaving time for Sam to grab the steel bat.

At the same time, Leader and Henchman #2 ran at him. Leader was ready to stab him when Sam jerked Henchman #1 toward him, using him as a shield. Leader sunk his blade inside his companion. The man screamed from pain and fell on the ground, dropping the bat.

Henchman #2 yelled, “Son of a bitch” and punched Sam in the kidneys. Pain exploded in his back and Sam shouted, his legs buckling under him. He lost his grip on the gun. Feet shot it out of Sam’s reach. Henchman #2 took advantage of Sam’s momentary immobility to punch him in the face twice. Blood squirted from his lips, splashing on his shirt.

Leader seemed stunned for a bit but seeing Sam on the ground woke him up. Holding the knife with both hands, Leader was going to strike Sam down. The ex-hunter saw the baseball bat and grabbed it. He knelt and swung against Leader’s hands. There was a crack and the knife went flying out of immediate reach. Sam turned toward Henchman #2 and repeated the movement. The man took a step back to evade.

Someone came up behind him and restrained him, blocking his arms against his body. Henchman #2 smirked. Panting, Sam mentally asked for Dean’s forgiveness before body slamming Henchman #1 several times against the car. The man grunted in his ear, clearly in pain. He tried to grab Sam’s face, scratching his cheek, nose, and almost popping one of his eyes out. Sam groaned. Henchman #2 came back and started hitting him. Henchman #1 found his throat and started to squeeze.

As the hits went on and Sam lacked oxygen, he started to lose consciousness. He couldn’t feel his body anymore. He didn’t have the strength. He wouldn’t last long, and it seemed they were now determined to kill him. He fell to his knees just as Leader came back holding Sam’s gun.

Stunned, hurt, Sam looked at Leader as he made a show to remove the gun safety slowly. He smiled.

“This is how you do it.”

Sam’s vision blurred. It was a relief, he wouldn’t even feel the bullet making its way through his skull. If he was going to die

_Dean, I’m coming_

he was going to look at death straight in the eyes.

A few seconds before he lost consciousness, he thought he saw a white string block the gun’s muzzle before it could fire. Sam grinned, somehow knowing that Spider-Man came back for him in his last moments.

*

_Sometimes life gives you a hundred chances._

*

Sam was surprised to open his eyes to the white ceiling of a hospital room. The antiseptic smell, the thin mattress and covers, it was foreign and familiar at the same time. Sam couldn’t feel his face, or his arm, or his back. Waking up banged up wasn’t rare. Waking up in hospital a bit more so. Waking up and still being _alive_ after what happened made him think that his guardian angel pranced around New York with a bright red and blue costume.

A nurse and a doctor came by a few minutes later to check on him. They said he was lucky. They said his kidneys had extensive bruising. They said his right arm was broken again. They said he had a hairline fracture on his cheekbone. They said they had to stitch him up. They said he was going to be fine.

Sam closed his eyes and sighed.

They were going to leave when Sam asked them if it was Spider-Man who saved him.

The doctor smiled and said, “Yes. He came in with you unconscious in his arms. He was rather frantic.”

The nurse added, “He was there just a few hours ago.”

With a few last recommendations, they left Sam alone with his thoughts. Weariness suddenly hit him and Sam fell asleep almost instantaneously. Now more than ever he couldn’t stop thinking about Spider-Man.

Sam had to wait a few days before he could leave the hospital. He called a cab to go back to his motel. The hospital couldn’t tell him if they knew anything about the Impala, or if Spider-Man had said something about it. Apparently, the young hero had been more preoccupied by a wounded Sam than a car, retorted a nurse drily.

When the cab arrived at the motel’s parking space, the ex-hunter smiled when he saw the Impala. He paid the driver and got out of the vehicle. The Impala’s window was shattered, and the door pushed in. Sam winced. He started to go around when he noticed a brown-haired young man leaning against it. He seemed nervous. He was wringing his fingers, his eyes jumping off things every two seconds.

Replacing his arm brace, Sam cleared his throat. The young man startled and looked at Sam nervously.

“Oh, oh. Hi.” The young man greeted.

“Hi,” Sam said with a slight smile. “Is there something you need?”

“Ah, yes. I…”

The young man gulped and shuffled his feet.

“There’s something you need to know.”

The ex-hunter frowned. He stopped a few feet in front of the other man.

“What is it?”

“I’m Peter.” He blurted out. “I mean, I’m Peter Parker. That’s my name. Peter… I mean. Sam. You… um. Nice to meet you.”

Despite himself, Sam chuckled. He shook the hand Peter was offering.

“Nice to meet you too, Peter-Sam.”

Peter groaned and passed a hand on his face in embarrassment.

“No, I mean,” Peter took a deep breath. “Hi Sam, I’m Peter Parker.”

Sam looked at him more closely.

“How do you know my name?” He asked, leaning back a bit, his left hand grasping at his gun and coming up empty. He smiled encouragingly at the young man when he didn’t continue. He was watching Sam warily.

Peter inhaled and rushed, “You know me by another name.”

The ex-hunter raised an eyebrow and waited. Peter closed his eyes and started to pull down his t-shirt’s collar. Stunned, Sam opened his mouth slightly when the familiar red spider-webbed leather suit came into view. He couldn’t really believe it. And yet, when he thought about it, Peter’s _voice_ _did_ sound familiar.

“I…” Sam was lost for words. “Why?”

“Why what?” Peter asked frowning.

“Why now? I thought you—”

_Hated me._

“I didn’t hate you Sam. I… I was scared,” the young man admitted.

“Of me?”

Peter looked at him through his eyelashes, guilty. Sam was shocked. He never meant to scare Peter.

“I’m sor—” Sam started to say before Peter cut him off.

“Look, I… I apologize for what happened last time. I searched Wendigos. I thought there were only mythical creatures and urban legends. Every source stated that once you change into a Wendigo, you can never go back. Your human side dies out.”

The young man stared at Sam, brown eyes serious and heavy.

“You killed the beast before it killed you.”

Sam watched him aptly. Peter frowned and looked away.

“It’s ok, Peter. You couldn’t have known. There are things in my life, I’m so used to them, I don’t even notice if it’s weird or wrong anymore.”

_Killing monsters, any monsters. Killing demons’ hosts without trying to save them first._

_Killing, killing, killing._

_Oh god, he shouldn’t let Peter near him._

“No, Sam. I’m sorry because when you were attacked it was because of me.”

“What do you mean?”

Peter huffed and passed a hand on his forehead.

“The men, they work for... he calls himself the Green Goblin. He has a thing for m— Spider-Man. He wants to destroy him, his life and the people he loves.”

Peter looked at Sam, deadly serious.

“I… couldn’t let him do that. I’m sorry, Sam.”

The young man sidestepped Sam to leave but the ex-hunter stopped him.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’ve had worse,” he joked. “I don’t scare easily.”

Sam smiled and waited for Peter to take his hand. The other man looked from Sam’s face to his hand and took it shyly after a few heart-stopping seconds.

God, it felt right.

Sam pulled Peter against him. Peter leaned in, careful of his wounds.

Sam could finally breathe.

*

_When he arrived in New York, he had planned to stay for a few weeks, see the superheroes in action, and maybe help. He hadn’t considered calling New York home before all that._


	2. Of Past and Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Peter and Sam's relationship blossoms, new challenges arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written for the WIP Big Bang 2018.
> 
> The sequel! It's here, though later than I wanted. I didn't have time to completely finsh everything so you'll get the rest of the chapters later.
> 
> I hope you like it! :)

_And life went on..._

*

“Mr. Smith?”

Sam looked up at the mechanic who just came out of the workshop.

“Yes, that’s me,” he said, standing up from the plastic chair in the waiting room.

The mechanic smiled a little and handed Sam his keys.

“Here you go. The car’s out front. Before leaving, don’t forget to go to the reception to pay.”

“Thanks.”

“It was a pleasure to fix this beauty.”

Sam nodded, watching the mechanic disappear back in the workshop. He passed by the reception to pay his fee and got out. When he arrived next to the car, Sam took a minute to look at it. He thought Dean would have hated it, Sam going to the garage to fix the car. And as much as Sam wanted to respect that, he couldn’t do much with a broken arm.

Two weeks had passed since Peter’s revelation. Two weeks since their first kiss. Two weeks where Sam had found out how much Peter had an overprotective streak and mother-henning habits. It wasn’t bad, just… strange. He wasn’t used to it. The only other person who had been like that with Sam was Dean. People didn’t usually care for Sam. They were always more attracted to Dean, whether it was friendship or romance.

Having Peter (and Spider-Man) so focused on him made him feel a bit… inadequate somehow. Like he didn’t deserve it. He knew this line of thinking was bullshit. He couldn’t help but think that Peter must have much better things to do than take care of him, or rather, care for him. It was notorious that his past relationships never ended well, and he was scared this one would go up in flames too.

Sam opened the door of the car and sat down behind the steering wheel. He started the car and backed up to leave the garage parking spot.

The doctor said that since his arm had been broken twice, it would probably take longer to heal. Broken bones generally healed in weeks, but it could take months. Sam really hoped a few weeks would be enough. He was already fed up of the cast. Because of this setback, he had to cancel most of his appointments or redirect people to more capable services. It also meant he was getting short of cash.

Sam arrived at his motel a few minutes later. He parked the car and went to his room. With a sigh, he let himself fall on the bed. As he watched the ceiling, his thoughts circled back to Peter and their relationship.

However difficult his situation was, Sam didn’t remember a time he had been this happy. No even Stanford had been that liberating. He wondered if he was finally moving on.

Peter was a big part of the reason Sam stayed in New York. After the fight with the Green Goblin’s men, he had been ready to leave. What was the point of staying in a city where the only friend he made avoided him like the plague. He had been ready to leave, but then, Peter Parker went to see him, and everything changed.

It might be unhealthy, getting attached so quickly to Peter, and by extension, New York. He fed on this crazy city with its villains and superheroes. He felt he was now part of something that was tangible, certain. In a way, he could just grab it and never let go.

Maybe he was going too fast, getting ahead of himself with Peter, but it was better than breaking down because of Dean’s absence. Peter was everything that Sam wasn’t: he was strong, he didn’t let despair drive him, and above all, Peter found light where there was only darkness for Sam.

Sam’s phone buzzed. He smiled when he saw that it was Peter calling.

“Hey,” Sam answered once he was done with the one hand fumbling.

“Hey yourself,” Peter’s voice said, slightly panting, “how’s the car?”

“Better now.”

“Great, super. Can I still come tonight?” Peter asked, before swearing profusely.

Sam furrowed his eyebrows worriedly.

“You OK?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m just…”

Peter grunted and then, “Hey! You shouldn’t do that. I’m trying to help you!”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Are you on patrol?”

“Hm, if I say yes, will I be forbidden to see you tonight?”

Sam sighed exaggeratedly, but he couldn’t stop the smile that crept on his lips.

“Dammit, Peter. Focus on this first. When this is over, call me again. I might revise my judgement otherwise.”

“Wait, Sam! I need to know—”

Sam hang up, knowing Peter would either call him right back or wait after his fight like a sensible person. When his phone still hadn’t rung, Sam was grateful Peter chose to wait. He didn’t want him to get hurt because he was distracted.

Sitting down, he grabbed the remote he left on the mattress and switched on the tv. He didn’t usually watch tv, but right now he was too tired to even think of getting his computer. If he wanted to follow Peter’s fight, the TV was his best bet.

Sam went through the channels until he found one that was less annoying than the others. As usual, they spent hours of repeating the same things (“Spider-Man is currently on scene. We don’t know about the Avengers whereabouts.”) and asking irrelevant questions (“Do you think that the superheroes are at the origins of the villains?”).

Spider-Man was fighting a giant lizard, and he seemed to be winning. It said something about Sam’s life that he wasn’t even fazed anymore by giant insects. When he thought he had seen everything, the world would just throw him something else. As the news reporters continued to talk, Sam lied down. His eyelids got heavier and heavier until he was out like a light before they concluded that Spider-Man won the fight.

*

There were fingers on his head, massaging his scalp, carding through his hair. Sam slowly opened his eyes and looked around until he found Peter sitting down next to him while watching TV. The young man must have felt him move because he suddenly looked down.

Peter smiled and leaned down to kiss Sam’s forehead.

“Hey.”

Sam smiled and cleared his throat.

“You won, I suppose.”

Peter wiggled his eyebrows indecently.

“Who do you take me for?”

Sam groaned and turned his head away, pretending to be ashamed. Peter laughed and decided to completely lie down on Sam, an ear against his chest. The ex-hunter huffed and passed his arm around Peter’s body to secure him.

“It wasn’t difficult. Didn’t even need the Avengers,” Peter said, his voice half muffled by Sam’s clothes.

“Glad you’re OK.”

“I saw the car. Looking good.”

Peter wiggled a bit. He crossed his arms on Sam’s chest and rest his chin on his arms to look at his boyfriend.

“Yeah. She’s better. They did a good job.”

Sam smiled as he looked at Peter. The young man had a pensive expression on his face.

“What is it?” Sam asked, brushing Peter’s cheek with his finger. Peter worried his lips a little, eyes watching the wall behind Sam. The ex-hunter frowned.

“I just…” Peter stopped. He sighed, and sat up next to Sam. The hunter sat as well, wondering what the young man had on his mind.

“I’m just… why are you staying in this motel? You could have a place to yourself.”

Peter was looking at him earnestly, trying not to be insulting. Sam grinned a little sadly.

“I don’t know,” Sam replied honestly. “Part of it is money. Another part is I’m used to this kind of living. I didn’t think…”

Sam shrugged.

“But don’t you want a home?” Peter asked, a little crease between his eyebrows, clearly trying to understand Sam’s reasons.

“Maybe,” he replied, a little dismissive. He didn’t really want to talk about it, so Sam kissed him. Peter smiled against his lips and responded to the tender kiss.

What Sam didn’t tell him was that he never really had a physical home, that having a home didn’t hinge on a physical building but on the people he loved. Dean had been his home for the longest time. He supposed that now Spider-Man and Peter slowly became his new home.

Peter pulled away, panting slightly from the kiss.

“I just want you to be happy,” Peter added.

“I am.”

His boyfriend beamed and kissed him again languorously. The kiss got heated. Sam grabbed Peter and pulled him against him. The young man straddled him and let out a small moan when their bodies touched. Sam loved the sound and tried to get it again by slipping a hand on Peter’s bulge. The young man bucked, his legs tightening around Sam’s waist.

“Sam,” Peter whispered, leaving butterfly kisses on his neck. The ex-hunter felt Peter’s hands sneaking their way under his shirt, stroking the warm skin underneath. Sam closed his eyes for a moment before bending Peter backward on the bed. Rearranging himself to avoid crushing Peter, Sam pulled away a few seconds. Seeing Peter still a little breathless sent a thrill through Sam.

“So,” Peter said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind Sam’s ear.

“So.”

Sam licked his lips, and Peter’s eyes followed the movement intently.

“You OK with this?” Sam asked when the silence went on too long.

“This?”

Peter rubbed himself against Sam, sending a surge of desire. He groaned and kissed Peter on the lips.

“Yeah,” Sam replied breathlessly.

“Totally.”

Peter smiled.

“Do you know how long I wanted to put my hands on you?”

When Sam shook his head, Peter used his strength to flip their position. Sam let out a surprised gasp, grabbing Peter.

“A long time?” Sam suggested as he tried to calm his heart down, his hands now trailing up and down Peter’s sides. The young man flashed him a wide smile, showing all his teeth.

“Ok, then.”

“Ok, then,” Peter repeated, leaning toward Sam and kissing him again.

*

Peter switched off the bathroom light and came back to bed. He lied down next to Sam who brought an arm around his waist to pull him closer. Once the young man was settled, he let out a content sigh.

“So,” Peter started after a few minutes of silence, tracing an invisible drawing on Sam’s sweaty chest. His fingers edged on his anti-possession tattoo and followed the lines from his fingertips.

“What does it mean? I meant to ask you before, but you know, I was kinda distracted.”

Peter smiled a bit deviously, which seemed weird to Sam, even after they just had sex for the first time.

“It’s an anti-possession sigil. It protects me from… from demon possession.”

Peter’s eyes crinkled in laughter. He opened his mouth to probably joke before he saw that Sam wasn’t kidding. He blinked, his eyes growing wide.

“Seriously?”

“Yep,” Sam confirmed, brushing Peter’s back with the pad of his fingers. The young man shivered and snuggled to Sam.

“Your family really went all out with this supernatural stuff,” Peter mused, putting his ear on Sam’s chest.

“You could say that…” Sam chuckled. The years had proven that there wasn’t too much protection for the Winchesters.

“Can you tell me more?” Peter asked, looking up at Sam, “About your family?”

Sam took a deep breath and released it. Peter had been curious ever since he ran searches on the Wendigo. He stumbled upon some hunter-friendly websites, with mostly accurate lore, and had asked Sam if he was a hunter. Sam, at the time, hadn’t seen the point of lying. Even if Peter hadn’t witnessed the supernatural, he had seen and fought weird things himself.

So, Sam told him a little bit about the hunting world and his family, thinking Peter would be satisfied with the bare minimum of information. He obviously wasn’t.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Peter rushed to say when Sam didn’t answer. “I know it’s hard, and…” Peter stopped, sighing. “I just want to know more about you.”

Sam kissed Peter on his forehead.

“It’s fine, Peter.”

“Yeah?”

Sam nodded.

“Yeah.”

Sam grabbed Peter’s chin to peck him on the lips. Sufficiently distracted, Peter let the subject drop.

*

_Sometimes Sam couldn’t believe his luck._

*

The next few days were spent almost the same way. Sam still woke up at 6 to go for a run. Usually, after his run, he would work. Instead, he started to follow Spider-Man more seriously. When Peter was done with his day, he always joined Sam at the motel.

Sam was sitting in his chair, cleaning one of his guns when he saw a shadow pass over his window. He grinned, pretty sure he knew who it was. When the window opened from the outside and a backpack thrown across the floor sounded, Sam looked up.

“You know, you can use the front door. I know, wild, right?” he quipped, reprising the cleaning of his gun.

Still outside, Peter — Sorry, Spider-Man — froze before crawling in the room. For once, he remembered to close the window after him, Sam noticed with satisfaction.

“Front doors are boring,” Peter answered, taking his backpack and finally putting it against the wall, like Sam told him for the umpteenth time.

“If you wanted to be inconspicuous, removing the costume and walking through the front door might be a better tactic.”

“Alright, what’s got into you?” Peter grumbled, peeling up his mask. Sam loved that his hair was disheveled every time he did that.

“Just pointing out the obvious, Petey.”

“No, don’t call me that. I’m not ten,” Peter groaned. He came up to Sam and unceremoniously pushed him back from the table to straddle him. Sam’s eyebrows rose up.

“You should feel insulted,” Peter continued, resting his hands on Sam’s shoulders.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Peter murmured, leaning closer to Sam. The ex-hunter let him come closer until their lips touch. Peter sagged, sighing against Sam’s lips. Sam cupped Peter’s waist with his hand and pulled him toward him until they were chest to chest. While they deepened the kiss, Sam felt the costume with his hand, mapping Peter’s body, cataloguing every tear and bump he could feel, trying to see if Peter was hurt in anyway, and mourning the fact he only had one hand to do that for now.

The young hero broke away, cupped Sam’s face and smiled at him.

“I’m fine. I know you know that,” he said with a low voice.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to check.” Sam replied, tone serious. Suddenly, the atmosphere became a little heavy.

Peter caressed Sam’s cheeks with his thumbs, then passed a hand in his hair, gently brushing his locks with his fingers. Sam closed his eyes, reveling under the care. He leaned his head forward and let his forehead touch Peter’s shoulder, not caring one bit for the dirty suit.

“I just don’t want to lose you, Peter,” Sam continued after a few minutes of silence, where they just hugged each other. Peter’s fingers stopped in his hair, and Sam almost protested at the loss, but the young man talked before he could voice it.

“You won’t lose me.”

Sam raised his head to look at Peter.

“You can’t promise that. You and I know that. What you do…” he trailed off, sighing.

Peter kissed him.

“I’ll do everything in my power to always come back,” he replied, eyes full of promises. Peter was always an optimist. He never failed to see the bright side of the worst situation. Sam knew the young man was strong. His powers were extraordinary, and Sam sometimes envied him. It didn’t mean Peter was infallible or invincible, it just meant he could hold longer than the average person. At least, Peter had a team and sometimes worked with other vigilantes. Peter wasn’t alone.

Sam didn’t know what the future held for them, but there was this nagging feeling at the back of Sam’s mind telling him something bad was going to happen. After all, people the closest to him always get hurt, or worse, die. He was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. He didn’t want it to happen to Peter.

However, he won’t let his paranoid mind ruin him this night with his boyfriend. He nodded, smiled, and kissed Peter back. They kissed tenderly for a few seconds before Peter pulled away. He stood from Sam’s lap and went to the bed, removing his suit.

“So,” he started as he was throwing the suit on the ground. Sam winced half for the very expensive costume, and half for the numerous black and blue bruises that littered Peter’s body.

“Yes?” Sam prompted when Peter didn’t continue, busy looking for something in Sam’s stuff.

“You know, it’s been like two months since we met.”

Sam hummed in agreement, squinting his eyes a little as he wondered where Peter was going with this.

“And we started dating almost a month ago, right?”

Peter tried to keep his face blank but the light blush on his cheeks gave him away.

“Is this.... do you want to celebrate it?” Sam asked cheekily. “I wouldn’t mind if you want to do it,” he added more seriously when he saw Peter’s blush.

“No!” Peter almost shouted, “I mean, yes,” he continued, embarrassed. “We should totally celebrate it. Just. Hm. I might or might not have mentioned you to my aunt.”

This time, it was Sam’s turn to feel embarrassed.

“Right,” he said, just for the sake of saying something.

“So,” Peter started again, “Aunt May would very much like to meet you. How do you feel about that?”

“I…”

Sam stopped and shrugged. To be honest, he didn’t know. He rarely went to that stage with his girlfriends. Even with Jessica, he only met her family once or twice during the three years they dated. Jessica met Dean exactly once and never met John.

“Don’t worry, Aunt May is the sweetest woman I know,” Peter rushed to say, looking at Sam who was probably sending vibes of “deer caught in the headlights”. “She’s just a little tiny bit overprotective with me, but that’s normal.”

Oh, good, an overprotective aunt, Sam thought, just what he needed. He knew the kind and he feared what was going to happen to him if he said yes. Then he looked at Peter, saw his hopeful but concerned eyes and soldiered on.

“Alright. I’ll meet your aunt.”

Peter whooped and smashed his mouth against Sam’s. The ex-hunter groaned and chuckled at the same time.

“You’re the best,” Peter murmured against his lips.

“I know.”

Sam winked, while Peter rolled his eyes.

“Hey, when’s your appointment for your cast?”

Sam grinned, excited.

“Next Thursday, at 9am.”

Peter’s eyes crinkled.

“Happy?”

“Like you can’t believe.”

“Come on, let’s celebrate. I’ll order out.”

A smile still lingering on his lips, Sam watched Peter as he walked to his backpack and grabbed his phone.

The next morning, Peter texted him that they would have dinner with Aunt May the day of Sam’s cast removal. He was a bit nervous at the prospect of meeting Peter’s aunt. She was his _family_ , and Sam didn’t know how he should act. After everything the young man told him about his aunt, Sam didn’t feel entirely confident. At least, he’d have both his hands free if he needed to defend himself.

The fearful day arrived before Sam could blink. The morning, Sam drove to the hospital and got out an hour later right arm sans cast. He needed physiotherapy, but at least he could reuse his arm.

Sam took the rest of the day to inform his regular clients that he was back on the job. He was happy to finally be able to work again. Getting paid was always a plus, especially when you’re trying to live in New York.

The hours passed until his phone chimed. It was Peter telling him he would arrive soon at the motel.

Sam’s heart stumbled. Gosh, he wasn’t prepared. He said goodbye to his last client and drove back to the motel. Peter was already there, prepared and waiting for him. They left as soon as Sam took a shower and dressed. The trip was spent in silence; Sam was too nervous to make conversation, and Peter was tired of his day.

When Sam parked near May’s apartment building, he cut the engine and didn’t move. Noticing his reaction, Peter squeezed his hand reassuringly, but Sam couldn’t calm his heart down. It would be the first time he met someone’s parents after Jess… ten years later. Sam looked at Peter and smiled at him before nodding.

“Come on, let’s go.”

They both got out of the car and walked to the building. Peter entered the entry code and the door opened with a click. They climbed the seven flight of stairs to May’s apartment. At the door, Peter kissed him lightly on the lips before opening it.

“Aunt May, we’re here!” Peter announced cheerfully.

A charming middle-aged woman with long black hair turned and looked up from the couch. She smiled brilliantly when she saw Peter. His boyfriend literally lit up and let Sam’s hand down to hug her.

“Peter, finally, I thought you got lost,” she said cheerfully. Sam could detect a very faint accent in her voice, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

“Sorry, Sam was pretty nervous,” Peter admitted, throwing a wry look at Sam who made a face. This wasn’t exactly the first impression he wanted to make. May’s laser eyes fell on Sam and observed him from head to toe. She was probably measuring him up and thinking up ways she could take him down if he hurt Peter in any way.

Maybe Peter had been a little too adamant that his aunt would do _anything_ for him, like murder if it came to it.

“Well, welcome Sam,” she said, walking towards him.

He smiled, feeling a bit awkward, and definitely too big.

“Peter told me a lot about you,” she continued as she came up to him, extending a hand. Sam fumbled a bit, surprised by the comment. He shook her hand.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, that boy was constantly talking about the non-existent boyfriend he had,” she replied, rolling her eyes fondly.

“Aunt May!” Peter protested, embarrassed.

“Peter didn’t tell me about you until I caught one naughty picture on his phone…” She winked, and Sam couldn’t tell who was blushing the hardest: Peter or himself.

“You let your aunt see that,” Sam asked haltingly.

“But…” Peter started to say. “I forgot to lock my phone, and someone called me and Aunt May saw it before I could grab it and…”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“At least, it wasn’t the worst,” Peter finished with a shrug. Sam didn’t think his cheeks could feel hotter before that moment. Peter should probably shut up now.

“Agreed,” May commented. “I’ve seen worse pictures than a sweaty bare-chested hot male looking at you with intense eyes. You could have found worst Peter. Good job.”

She patted her nephew on the shoulder and went to check on the oven, leaving Peter gaping in her wake. Sam didn’t think he could feel more embarrassed. Peter seemed to shake out of his state and whirled around.

“I hope you didn’t cook,” he said, almost running after his aunt.

“Who do you take me for?” May huffed, waving a dismissive hand at Peter. “I ordered. Don’t be stupid, boy.”

“Well, I never know with you. Sometimes, you have crazy ideas.”

While aunt and nephew continued their banter, Sam observed the apartment. Peter told him that when his uncle was still alive, they used to live in a house. But at his death, May couldn’t pay for a whole house with only one salary, so they had to move and get a smaller place.

Peter was worried that Sam would scoff at the place they lived in, but Sam quickly erased his doubts. He would never do that, even if he didn’t sleep most of the time in motels or the car. In the end, apart from the school years and college, and sometimes going to Bobby’s, Sam hardly remembered sleeping in a house or an apartment. Peter had been incredibly relieved as if people had made fun of him before. It made Sam angry and heartbroken on his boyfriend’s behalf. He hadn’t thought he sent off this kind of signals and regretted not picking on it before.

Peter shouldn’t have worried. The apartment was homey, filled with all sort of objects, pictures, and memorabilia. Sam smiled when he looked closer at the pictures on a cupboard. There were several framed pictures of a younger Peter with medals (decathlon) or trophies (2nd place at a science fair). In others he was with May, in some there was also a man (uncle Ben?). Sam’s eyes continued to look until he landed on a photo of Peter and a couple Sam didn’t recognize. It was the only photo of the three of them.

Sam felt someone coming by his side. He turned around and saw it was May. She was smiling softly, even though there was a twinge of sadness in her expression.

“My husband, Ben,” she pointed at the pictures where the man was present. “Peter’s parents, Richard and Mary,” she continued, showing the couple Sam didn’t know. She grabbed one of the frames where Peter, Ben and May were all smiling at the camera.

“It’s funny,” she said sadly, “We never really did decide if we wanted kids, Ben and I.” She sighed and put the frame back on the cupboard. “And then Richard and Mary…” May trailed off. She turned her head to look at Sam. “When Peter came to live with us, the topic never came back.”

Sam didn’t know what to say. Everything on his tongue was bland and cliché. It was better not to say anything.

“Do you have siblings?” May asked suddenly.

Sam opened his mouth to say that yes, he had a sibling.

“Yes,” he answered, throat closing up. “I had a big brother.”

May didn’t miss the use of the past tense.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, sincere and Sam smiled reassuringly at her.

“It’s… ok.” He shrugged. “I just wish that I had had more time with him.”

“What about your parents?”

Sam chuckled, choked up.

“They’re not… they passed away too, years ago.”

If possible, May looked more crestfallen.

“Oh, no, my boy. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t know why but her reaction, which seemed genuine, brought tears to his eyes. He tried to hide it but May saw it. She raised a hand and touched his back as a comforting gesture. Maternal. It grounded Sam and he inhaled. He didn’t want Peter to see him like this. He would get worried. Sam turned to her.

“Thanks. And sorry for this.” He made a vague gesture towards him.

She tutted, her face softening.

“No, don’t apologize. I understand. Sometimes, it’s too much. Peter would understand too.”

“I know,” Sam replied. “I just don’t want him to carry another burden.”

May chuckled.

“You know him well.”

“Enough, I guess,” Sam shrugged. Peter came barreling in the living room just at this moment.

“So, are we eating? I’m famished.”

“Let’s go, Peter,” May said, inviting Sam to the table.

Sam hadn’t felt confident before meeting May and had been dreading a little the dinner with the woman, knowing what Peter told him about his aunt. After that, however, Sam realized where Peter got his beautiful heart. By the end of the evening, Peter was positively glowing as he watched his two favorite people getting along.

As Sam kissed Peter good-bye, he understood why Peter loved his aunt so much. She was a wonderful woman, and the only family he had left.

If Sam could see Dean one more time, he wouldn’t say no.

*

_And then…_

*

One day, after Sam finished one of his appointments, he was supposed to meet Peter near the Avengers tower. He expected a lot of things from New York and New Yorkers, but he hadn’t expected to bump into Roy of all people. The man was looking through a journal (much like John’s) and was leaning against a car, a beat-up Volvo which had seen better days in the 90s.

Sam didn’t want to talk to him, not now, not ever, and certainly not after what they did, Walt and him.

_maybe Sam should’ve stayed dead_

Sam shook his head at the intrusive thoughts. Come on, man, don’t fall into this trap. Dean wouldn’t want you to do that. Peter would hate you for that. So, Sam walked away. Roy wasn’t even looking in his direction.

However, the Winchester luck struck again.

“Winchester!” Roy called out and Sam pretended not to hear him.

“Hey!” Roy shouted, grabbing Sam by the arm to stop him. The ex-hunter gritted his teeth and whirled to face the other man, poking him in the chest.

“Leave me alone, Roy. You don’t want to mess with me now.”

Roy let out an ugly laugh.

“You haven’t changed, Winchester. Always the same, always the mons—”

Sam didn’t think. He grabbed Roy by the throat and pushed him in an alley farther away. When he released him, the other man coughed, a hand on his throat, while looking at Sam, wary.

Good. He should fear him.

“I don’t know why you’re here, Roy, but you better haul ass elsewhere.”

“You think I’m here for you, freak? Nah, you’re not that important,” Roy spit on the ground near Sam’s shoe. “You Winchesters always think you’re the chosen ones, but you’re not. You’re just the bastards who fuck shit up and scramble to fix it. And you always do a shoddy job. Why do you think no hunters want to work with you Winchesters? People always die around you.”

Sam clenched his jaw and considered punching Roy right here, damned if there were people who saw it. How dare he? How dare he say that when Sam had lost so much; his friends and his family? How dare he when Roy tried to kill them?

“Listen to me very carefully Roy,” Sam threatened, a finger pointed at the man, “this isn’t your turf. New York is off limit. Leave now and you’ll be fine.”

“Or what,” Roy taunted with a smirk. “What are you going to do? Beat me up? Kill me?” He chuckled when Sam didn’t answer.

“Right. That would ruin your perfect image.”

“Sam?” Peter’s voice resonated in the alley. No, no, no. Sam’s eyes grew wide and he slowly turned around, heart in his throat. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Hey, Peter, sorry,” Sam started with an embarrassed expression. “I just…”

Roy interrupted him.

“Hi, I’m Roy.”

He bypassed Sam and walked to Peter, offering his hand. Sam followed him and tried to get himself between Peter and Roy. The young man’s eyes were flickering between the two men, silently asking Sam what was happening.

“Hi,” Peter answered as he shook Roy’s hand. “Are you two friends?”

Sam closed his eyes as Roy chuckled darkly.

“More like… acquaintances.” Roy threw a look at Sam that didn’t bode well. “I was surprised to find Sam here. Rumor has it the… accident that took his brother had also killed him.”

Roy smirked at Sam, knowing his words would strike a chord. Sam closed his fist in anger.

“Leave,” Sam growled. Roy huffed but listened to Sam. Roy was almost out of sight (and out of Sam’s life) when he looked back.

“ _Peter_ ,” he said, emphasizing his name, “you should watch your back with this one… he’s not who you think he is.”

“Don’t worry, _Roy_ ,” Peter replied, imitating the other man’s tone. “I’m sure I can handle Sam.”

Roy snorted, shaking his head.

“If you say so.”

Roy finally left, and Sam tried to breathe in and out. He felt Peter’s fingers gently opening his clenched fist.

“Are you OK?” Peter asked, taking his hand. Sam tensed and slipped his hand out of Peter’s grasp. He didn’t feel like being touched right now. The young man tried to hide how hurt he was by Sam’s reaction. It didn’t work. Sam briefly closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, voice hoarse.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Sam shook his head. Peter pressed his lips together but let it go. He knew his boyfriend wanted to talk, but he wasn’t in the mood.

“Do you still want to go to the expo?” Peter asked, though he looked already a little exasperated.

“I don’t know,” Sam replied. He didn’t want to hurt Peter, but the fact that Roy was here scared him. He needed to know why he came to New York.

“Fine,” Peter said, voice clipped. “I’ll be at the tower then. When you’re ready to spend time with me, you’re welcome to join me.”

Peter didn’t wait for an answer, he turned his heels and left Sam in the alley. The ex-hunter felt bad for hurting Peter this way, but he also knew the young man was too curious for his own good. Sam might have told him a little bit about his past as a hunter, but he didn’t tell him about Roy and Walter. He wasn’t sure how Peter would react to that.

Sam went to his car, ready to leave. However, as he inserted the key in the ignition, he stopped himself. Did he really want to leave like that? He hated it when Peter was mad at him. He hadn’t meant to upset Peter. Sam sighed and took out his phone. He sent a quick apologetic text, asking Peter if he could call him. While waiting for an answer, Sam thought he should just go and call Peter later. It wasn’t like he could just go in the Avengers tower. The Avengers probably didn’t take kindly to strangers in their quarters.

Before he could convince himself to leave, his phone chimed. He had barely had time to look at the screen when he received another text.

**PETER**

_Come in!_

**PETER**

_Tell the receptionist you have a meeting with Mr. Stark_

Sam raised an interrogative eyebrow but since Peter couldn’t see him, he just pocketed the phone and did as he was told. He got out of the car and walked to the tower’s sliding doors. Before entering the building, he hesitated and couldn’t resist looking up. He gulped at the looming size of the building, especially knowing who inhabited it.

He felt rather self-conscious when he crossed the threshold of the infamous tower. It wasn’t every day that you could just walk in. Especially when you were Sam, he thought as he watched smartly dressed workers getting in and out of the elevators.

The high ceiling of the huge lobby almost gave him vertigo. Everything seemed to be made of glass and clear colors, illuminating the whole thing. There were a few screens here and there with Avengers videos playing, sprinkled with Stark Industries promotional videos and some other charities Sam didn’t know.

He had to admit he was kind of impressed by the sleek and modern architecture. He couldn’t even make out the camera in this artfully made lobby. Sam huffed, amused. He had fought angels and demons. He even stopped the apocalypse. He could face superheroes on their own turf.

He noticed that the few guards positioned in the room were watching him intently. He supposed that he wasn’t Stark Industries’ usual worker. His jeans and flannel shirt clashed with the high-tech place. He walked to the receptionist and gave her the best smile he had. He hoped that what Peter told him worked.

“Hello and welcome to the Avengers Tower,” she greeted with a professional smile, “how can I help you today?”

“Hi, I have an appointment with Mr. Stark.”

If she thought it was weird, she didn’t show it.

“Do you have an ID?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Sam grabbed his wallet and gave her his (fake) ID. She looked over it, lingering on the picture for a few seconds then looking at Sam. She seemed satisfied and started to type something on her keyboard. She nodded and pressed another key. She grabbed a plastic card and swept it over some sort of scanner. She pressed a keyboard and looked up at him.  

“Alright. Here’s your visitor badge,” she indicated, giving him a plastic card, “it gives you access to all the public areas and Mr. Stark’s office. I will keep your ID until you are ready to leave.” She paused and watched him, waiting for his acknowledgement.

Sam nodded, even though he didn’t feel comfortable leaving his (fake) ID with her. If they notice anything suspicious about it, Sam didn’t want to be here when they call the police.

“Good. To access Mr. Stark’s office, you need to take this elevator,” she continued, showing the elevator doors on her left, opposite to the other elevators.

As he walked toward the elevator, the doors slid open, surprising him. Sam threw a cursory glance on the ceiling, but again, he couldn’t find the cameras.

As soon as Sam climbed in the car, the doors closed and went up without waiting for his input. Sam cleared his throat and shuffled a little. It didn’t reassure him. He stayed there for a good five minutes until the doors finally opened.

He thought he’d see Peter on the other side. Instead, Tony Stark and the Black Widow were waiting for him. He looked at them and wondered if Peter actually texted him or if it was a ploy from those two.

“Mr. Smith, welcome to the Avengers Tower.” Stark said with a sharp smile. Romanov, next to him, examined him from head to toe. It was a clinical look over, as if he was a prey and she was the hunter. Sam hid his sudden spike in adrenaline as he stepped out of the elevator to meet the heroes.

“Peter told me to come here,” he pointed out, hoping he wasn’t wrong.

“I know,” Stark replied with a slight squint. “I told him he could invite you up.”

“Thank you, I guess.”

Sam smiled tightly, not sure what the situation was. Tension was high in the air. Romanov was still watching him intently, coiled while Stark pretended to mess with his phone. It was a stalemate until Peter barged in on them. The young man stopped abruptly and looked at them with wide eyes.

“Please, he’s my boyfriend,” he said, almost begging.

Sam turned to him with an incredulous expression. Peter shrugged, contrite and gave him a small smile. Still not reassuring, Sam thought as he glared a little at his boyfriend. First, it was May, now, it was Peter’s teammates.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Stark sighed, not looking at them. “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do or would do. You know the drill, kid.”

In the first show of emotion since Sam met her, Romanov rolled her eyes.

“You,” Stark continued, pointing at Sam, “keep your hands to yourself.”

Peter squeaked, and Sam raised his hands in a placating manner.

“Right. I’m late, I should probably go,” Stark muttered in his breath. Romanov looked at him when he didn’t move. They shared a look and Stark shrugged, bypassing Sam on his way to the elevator.

“Natasha, you’re coming?” Stark called out as he leaned against the car’s wall. “It won’t wait for you.”

“Yes, it will,” she replied with a light voice, but she was staring at Sam. She walked up to him, her eyes promising a lot of unpleasant things, and whispered, “If you hurt Peter…”

She smirked sharply and brushed him as she joined Stark in the elevator. Sam’s eyes followed her. Stark waved goodbye as the doors closed on them. Once they were out of earshot, Sam turned his attention back to Peter who stared at him sheepishly.

“Sorry, they’re kind of overprotective.”

Sam huffed, raising his eyebrows.

“Reminds me of your aunt.”

Peter shrugged, a grin on his face. Sam let out a breath and walked to the young man.

“I’m sorry for earlier, Peter. I…” Sam paused, not knowing what to say.

“You never really talk about your past, and with the… the wendigo, and the werewolf, I understand that it’s not something usual… I just...” Peter grabbed Sam’s hand. “I just felt so helpless when I saw how you were hurting because of that guy. I wanted to help but…”

“I pushed you away,” Sam said.

Peter nodded.

“I understand. Sort of. Keeping secrets was kinda my thing too. Until recently, not even the Avengers knew about my civilian identity. I just wish you could tell me more. I see that it’s weighing you down and I want to be there for you.”

When Sam didn’t answer, Peter cupped his face and kissed him chastely on the lips.

“You know I wouldn’t judge very much,” he added with a cheeky smile.

Sam barked a laugh.

“You’re right. You never judge.”

“Nope, never in my life.”

Peter giggled and broke away from Sam, taking his hand.

“Come on, I’ll show you the workshop!”

Sam let Peter lead him to a door in the Avengers floor. Peter touched the wall which slid part of the wall over, revealing a keypad. Peter smirked at Sam’s awe. The young man entered a 6-digit code and the door opened with a soft click. At the end of the hallway, there was another elevator.

“So, consider yourself lucky,” Peter babbled as they walked to the elevator, “because you’re gonna be in Tony’s workshop and it’s awesome. He hates people poking around, and more than half of what he does really, really shouldn’t be out in the public.”

They entered the elevator.

“And well, he’s kinda paranoid and really protective of his tech,” Peter continued, gesturing wildly. “Not that I blame him.”

“And you’re allowed in?” Sam interjected, finally able to get a word edgewise.

“Sure! All the Avengers are. And you, I guess,” Peter added after a beat. “Though, I’m not sure why.”

“He trusts you.”

Peter looked at him with a sweet expression.

“Of course, but he doesn’t know you and he never invites new people in. So, I was kinda confused as to why he told me to bring you there.”

Sam had an inkling of the reason. His lab was probably the most secure room of the Avengers Tower. Stark might have planned to kill him.

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. As soon as they stepped out, the lights came on and illuminated the room. At first glance, the workshop was rather bare. There were a few workbenches, one desk with a computer with three screens and some sort of landing pad on the right. On the left, there was a couch, a sink and a fridge. Sam felt a bit disappointed. He had expected more from Stark’s workshop, something closer to a Sci-Fi book.

“Come on, I want to show you something awesome!” Peter exclaimed, untangling their hands. He skipped to the computer and pressed a key. The screens lit up with the specs of the Spider-Man suit and web shooters.

“And…” Peter pressed another key on the keyboard and suddenly, the Spider-Man suit came to life next to Sam. He startled and took a step back, as adrenaline surged through him. This wasn’t an enemy. When he looked at Peter, the young man had a hand over his mouth, hiding the smile Sam could see poking out. The ex-hunter narrowed his eyes playfully and stalked to Peter. The other man half-laughed, half-gasped when Sam crowded him against the desk.

“What did you think you were doing?” Sam asked in the gravelly voice he knew Peter loved.

Peter’s smile widened. He put his arms around Sam’s neck.

“Well, I wanted to see if I could scare you.”

Sam raised his eyebrows and leaned in, his mouth brushing over Peter’s skin at the corner of his mouth. Peter shuddered and tried to kiss Sam. The ex-hunter evaded him, making Peter pout. Sam smiled and finally kissed hos boyfriend.

Peter let out a soft gasp and climbed on the desk behind him to sit and wrap his legs around Sam’s waist, bringing him closer. Sam sighed satisfyingly, roaming his hands on Peter’s back, slipping his fingers under his shirt and—

Someone cleared their voice, startling them both. As if burned, Sam pulled away from the embrace, his face feeling hot. Peter closed his eyes, groaning while Sam looked around to see who was in the room. Dread washed over Sam when he realized there was no one else but them in the workshop.

“Seriously, J. Why?” Peter whined, now looking at the ceiling.

“Sir told me to keep an eye on you,” the invisible person said, sounding amused.

Peter rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me he never did _that_.”

“I’m not allowed to say,” the voice replied in the way that confirmed it, “however, need I remind you this is Sir’s workshop and he can use it however he wants?”

As a joke, Peter imitated silently the voice then stuck his tongue out.

“Fine. I’m sorry.” Peter conceded, sighing, when the voice pointedly didn’t say anything more. “Please don’t tell him.”

The voice didn’t answer right away, which made Peter narrow his eyes.

“JARVIS?”

“I will not tell Sir if he doesn’t ask me specifically.”

Peter slumped on himself.

“Thanks, man, I owe you.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Parker.”

“JARVIS?” Sam asked once he found his voice back.

Peter jumped on the ground.

“Mr. Stark’s AI. He’s great.” Peter added with a smile. “This is cool right?”

For a moment, Sam thought Peter was talking about JARVIS, and yes, it was cool (although scary) but the young man was pointing at the intangible suit.

“This is impressive,” Sam commented while looking at the hologram from every side without touching it.

“You can touch it if you want.”

Peter “grabbed” one of the arms and raised his hand. The hologram followed his movement and stayed in the air. Sam couldn’t help but gape. Dean would’ve gotten a kick out of it, Sam mused with a pang. Yeah, his big brother would’ve loved to see this. Tentatively, he extended his hand to touch the hologram. As predicted, there was nothing tangible. He decided then to poke it and the whole suit moved away from him.

“Wow.”

Peter was grinning like a loon. He went back to the computer and pressed another key. The hologram disappeared.

“Why did you go into reporting?” Sam suddenly asked. Peter was so relaxed here, he looked in his element. “You seem to love it more than photography.”

“Well,” Peter started. “Spider-Man is technically my job. I’ve always loved science. It helps me improve my suit. Photography has become a way to earn money without being stuck to a desk from 9 to 5.’

“So that you can go on patrol whenever you want.”

Peter nodded.

“But… Jameson hates you.” Sam frowned, now confused. “Well, he hates Spider-Man.”

Peter grinned.

“For someone who hates Spider-Man so much, he sure does love to print his picture.”

“To insult you.”

Peter shrugged, walking to Sam.

“It sells.”

Sam huffed and chuckled.

“I can see that.”

Peter’s suddenly expression changed from joyful to serious. Sam grimaced, knowing what the next conversation would be about.

“I know you want to talk,” Sam started to say. “And we will, just… maybe not here?”

Peter looked at him knowingly and nodded.

“JARVIS, I can activate the Black Out mode, right?”

“Mr. Parker?” JARVIS inquired, sounding confused.

“Please, just a few minutes.”

The AI didn’t answer immediately, making Sam a little uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure how to feel about an AI _thinking_ about what to do.

“Alright, just a few minutes,” the AI conceded gently.

Peter sighed in a relief.

“Thanks.”

Sam waited for something to happen. When nothing did, he turned to Peter who nodded. The young man pulled two chairs and plopped in one.

“JARVIS won’t record anything until I tell him to, so you can say whatever you want.”

Peter smiled reassuringly and invited Sam to sit on the other chair. The ex-hunter sat down, look at Peter and took a breath in.

Peter already knew about some parts of the supernatural, and how his family got involved. The thing was the Roy situation was something else entirely. It hadn’t been about a creature or a monster. It had been about Sam and the fact that he started the Apocalypse. How could he tell Peter that the man he loved had once fallen so far down, he resorted to drinking demon blood and in doing so, started the match that sparked the end of the world? How could he tell Peter that Roy and Walt tried to kill him? That the results of dying and resuscitating had broken something in Sam and Dean’s relationship?

Sam would always blame himself for the Apocalypse. If he hadn’t trusted Ruby, if he hadn’t felt so fucking alone, hopeless, and vengeful…

Sam cleared his throat and opened his mouth, not knowing where to start. Peter smiled encouragingly at Sam.

“Do you remember the Wendigo?”

Peter’s eyes became unfocused as he recalled that particular memory.

“Yeah,” he replied in a breath. “I do. It was… it had been frightening. That… thing charging you…” Peter trailed off.

“And you remember that I’m was a hunter,” Sam continued, “my family hunted creatures, things that go bump in the dark.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re not the only ones doing that. Roy is a hunter too.”

Peter’s eyes grew wide. He let out a soft “oh”.

Sam sighed, and passed a hand in his hair. There was no roundabout way to tell it. He was just going to say it without sugarcoating it.

“He tried to kill me a few years ago.”

“What?” Peter said, his face losing all color. Sam chuckled humorlessly.

“Yeah… and he nearly succeeded, too. He doesn’t like me very much… Seeing him again just threw me on a loop because… because…”

“Because he tried to kill you,” Peter completed in a breathless tone. Then, Peter jutted his chin, lips pressed together, a stubborn expression on his face.

Sam knew that face, and he hoped he could stop Peter from going after Roy. He knew the superhero wouldn’t kill Roy. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to send him to justice, and that would be bad for all hunters.

“Because he also tried to kill my brother,” Sam finished, making his boyfriend gasp with sympathy. There it was, Peter’s bleeding heart. He took Sam’s hand and squeezed reassuringly.

“I know Dean’s dead but remembering it hurts.”

“I know what you mean.”

Peter rolled up to Sam and snuggled, putting his head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I stormed out,” Peter said, his voice muffled by Sam’s shirt.

“No. I wasn’t fair to you. You did nothing wrong.”

He felt Peter shift.

“Now what?”

Sam frowned at Peter, not understanding what he was thinking.

“What do we do about Roy?” Peter asked, a twinkle in his eyes. He was preparing something, Sam knew it.

“You, you do nothing. I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”

Sam kissed Peter to erase that look of concern he was sporting. He hoped Roy didn’t have anything up his sleeve that could jeopardize his life here and his relationship with Peter. Roy knew things about Sam that he’d rather keep secret, even from his boyfriend.

After this conversation, Peter made his duty to explain in great details the web shooters and his suit. And how Mr. Stark really helped getting them into shapes, and how he still couldn’t believe he was working with the Avengers, and how he loved being here for the big events but also for the little guy.

Sam’s heart soared with love when he looked at Peter so enthusiastically telling him about a perilous mission they did and how Peter had been the one to save the day.

Not really thinking and in a sharing mood too, Sam granted Peter with little tales of his own, mostly about Dean’s shenanigans and some of their weirdest cases (but not the ugliest and never the deadliest). Peter loved it since Sam rarely talked about his past. In the end, they spent hours in the workshop just talking.

At some point, Peter went to fetch food and drink. An hour or two later, Stark came back.

“Black Out mode, kid? Since when?” Stark asked with an eyebrow raised. Sam couldn’t read his expression.

“Oops?” Peter said, looking contrite enough that Stark only rolled his eyes and shooed them away with a scowl. Sam helped Peter tidy everything up before leaving the genius alone.

They had left the building and were going to the Impala when Peter tensed beside him.

“Peter?”

The young man was looking at. Sam followed his gaze across the street and found what he was looking at. Roy pretended to read his journal, but he had an infuriating smirk on his lips, knowing full well Sam was watching.

“Right, this is enough,” Peter muttered, and Sam had the good reflex to grab his arm to stop him.

“No, Peter. Please, not tonight,” he said, against Peter’s ear. “Please.”

The young man sighed unhappily but complied.

“OK. Not tonight.”

Sam mouthed “thank you” at him and led them away from Roy. He’d rather keep Peter away when Sam will confront Roy.

*

_As the saying goes: third time’s a charm_

*

Between jobs, Sam would try to find Roy. For days, he couldn’t find anything until one day, he noticed by chance the same beat up Volvo in the streets. Sam waited to see if Roy would show up, and when he did, Sam decided to follow him. He tailed Roy to the docks. The other hunter drove through the warehouses until the very end where he finally stopped. This warehouse was as far from the city as possible and well-hidden from prying eyes. Sam had an inkling Roy had something stashed in here.

Sam’s lips turned up in a joyless smile.

As soon as Roy was inside the building, Sam got out of his car and looked around first to see if there wasn’t another way to get in. He didn’t want to spook Roy right away. He needed to know where he was setting foot.

He found a service door around back. He tried the handle which opened easily enough. Sam took his gun in hand and crept silently between the racks. At first, he didn’t hear any noise apart from the waves and birds chirping.

Finally, after searching a few more seconds, Sam started to make out voices. He walked closer to the voices and realized it was Roy. Another voice sounded, raspy and feminine. Sam didn’t recognize it. He frowned and walked closer. His put his back against the rack and listened when he could distinctly hear their conversation.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Roy was saying. “It’s the truth. You don’t believe me, that’s your problem but don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”

“This seems highly improbable,” the woman answered.

Roy huffed.

“ _You_ ’re telling me that? Shouldn’t you be used to that sort of stuff?”

There was a silence. Sam tried to get a look of the woman. Though he quickly realized he couldn’t, not without being seen.

“There is our sort of stuff and _your_ sort of stuff it seems,” she replied with a lilt in her voice. “I just want to know,” she continued with a serious tone, “is he dangerous?”

“Yes,” Roy answered matter-of-factly. “He doesn’t look like it but he’s… you have to be careful around him.”

Sam didn’t know whether he should feel proud or insulted by Roy’s statement.

“Noted,” the woman said, and silence fell again. Sam waited a few beats before leaving his hiding place. Unfortunately, it appeared the woman was already gone. Roy whirled around when he heard him approach.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Winchester? You following me?”

“What do you think?” Sam retorted angrily. “I thought you left and here you are, talking to a woman about… me?”

Roy smiled.

“So, you didn’t see her?”

Sam frowned, and it seemed to be answer enough for Roy. The other man seemed way too jubilant about it.

“Let just say that you’ll be watched, so don’t fuck up Winchester.”

That son of a bitch. He was so infuriating.

“What are you doing in New York?” Sam asked as Roy started to leave.

Facing him, Roy said, “Contrary to popular belief, I didn’t come for you.”

“For her, then?”

Roy snorted, shaking his head.

“Nope. She found me. No. I was here because apparently you forgot you were a hunter.”

Sam clenched his jaw and crossed his arms in front of his chest. It seemed to amuse Roy.

“When you get your head out of your ass, know that there are things in New York that shouldn’t be here. Are you so blind to what’s around you that you don’t even see it?”

Roy shook his head again, made a dismissive gesture with his hand and left Sam alone in the warehouse. Sam left not long after Roy.

On his way back to the motel, Sam mulled over what the other hunter told him. If what he said was true, then what has he been doing all this time? He had been able to shadow Spider-Man on some of his patrols, he also could have been on the lookout for supernatural events even though he didn’t hunt anymore. Had he been so focused on his life and the superhero world that he completely forgot about the other one?

At the motel, Sam didn’t waste any time and went on his computer. He needed to find what Roy had hinted at, what was happening under his nose. It didn’t take long. What he found made him sick. There were at least a dozen cases where a supernatural creature could have been responsible. All the cases were in New York or surrounding area, and in some of them, people died.

Sam put his head in his hands, gripping his hair and tugging his strands in his fists. When he looked back at the computer and saw the sheet-covered bodies, he snapped it shut and pushed it away from him.

What did he do?

*

_He had to do something, right?_

*

Sam canceled the jobs he had for the remainder of the day. By the time the evening rolled in, Sam had made a list of all the occurrences he should at least report. He hoped Garth still had the same number.

He took his phone and pushed the home button to leave the sleep mode. Sam grinned a little when he saw the numerous texts Peter sent him over the course of the day. The first texts were pretty normal for Peter. As Sam read on, he noticed the young man got more and more worried because Sam didn’t answer any of them.

Biting lightly his lower lip, Sam sent Peter a quick text, telling him he was fine. Then he went in his contact list and selected Garth. He sent him a text with the occurrences that most likely pointed at the supernatural. Before he could discard his phone, Peter was calling him.

Sam breathed out and answered, “Hey.”

“You OK?” Peter asked, concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry if I worried you.”

“You kind of went off grid… I’m just.”

Peter stopped, and Sam briefly closed his eyes. He could hear the pain Peter was in, and Sam did that. He hurt the most important person in his life.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Sam repeated, tone apologetic. He heard the young man sigh.

“At least, you’re OK.”

“Yeah.”

“I gotta go. Tony’s calling me. See you tonight?”

Sam nodded, “Yeah, I can’t wait.”

Silence fell on the line for a few beats. Sam worried he said something wrong.

“Love you,” Peter declared before hanging up, stunning Sam into silence.

He looked at his phone, and he couldn’t repress the pleased smile stretching over his lips. Smile that melted when he remembered that there was still this mysterious woman he needed to find. Even though he hacked New York’s CCTV, the camera near the warehouse entrance had either been put on a loop or didn’t film the correct angle, efficiently masking whoever met with Roy. It worried him, not knowing who the woman was. He didn’t know what she wanted with him. He couldn’t protect himself or Peter from her.

Before he could go further in his thoughts, his phone chimed. Garth had answered him. At least, Sam thought, everything wasn’t so gloom. Even if he wasn’t hunting anymore, he could help Garth keep track of what was happening in New York.

A few hours later, Sam was getting impatient. He couldn’t wait for Peter to arrive. He needed to talk to him face to face and properly apologize. Peter didn’t deserve the way Sam treated him today. He was going to take Peter out. He had reserved a table in a nice restaurant he hoped Peter would like.

When someone knocked, Sam bounced to the door, grinning.

“Peter!” He greeted before losing his smile. It wasn’t Peter in front of him but Roy. Sam frowned.

“What are you doing here, Roy?”

The man pushed his way in and closed the door with his foot.

“We have unfinished business, Winchester.”

Sam took a step back when Roy advanced on him.

“I thought I told you to leave New York.”

Roy chuckled, looking at Sam through his eyelashes.

“You did. And then, I remembered that I had a job to finish.”

Sam eyed the gun he had on the table. He was too far away to get it and Roy wouldn’t have come here without a weapon.

“I thought you weren’t here for me,” Sam spit, anger flaring.

Roy smirked, “I lied.”

When the other hunter quickly reached for his gun, Sam darted to the desk behind him. Roy fired his gun and hit Sam in his right thigh. He cried out, stumbled and crashed against the table, knocking it over. All its content crash on the ground. The gun bounced away from Sam. With a trembling hand, he pressed against his wound on his thigh, gritting his teeth to stop him from screaming from the intense pain. Rough hands grabbed him and turned him around. With his left arm, Sam tried to stay elevated to look at Roy who was smirking at him, his gun hanging low.

“You know, I waited years to be able to do that.”

Sam chuckled breathlessly, spikes of pain surging every other beat.

“You tried that once and it didn’t stick.”

Roy cooed at Sam.

“Oh, poor Sammy. I think, this time you won’t get any help from a higher power.”

Sam clenched his jaw, breathing loudly.

“If you do this, and I survive,” Sam growled, “I swear, I’m going to kill you.”

Roy leaned down and patted Sam’s cheek, a condescending expression on his face, keeping the damn gun out of Sam’s reach.

“It wasn’t nice knowing you, Winchester.” Roy said as he stood back. He raised his gun and aimed at Sam’s chest. His heart picked up, hammering against his ribs. He couldn’t let his fear show though. He wouldn’t let Roy have this satisfaction.

Sam smirked, “Just like old times, huh.”

He knew had less than a second to avoid a mortal wound. He used his left arm to move to the right. Roy fired the gun again and hit Sam in the chest, sending him to the ground with a shout. Pain exploded and submerged Sam.

He must have blacked out because the next time he opened his eyes, Roy was nowhere to be seen. Sam raised his right hand and ran his fingers on his chest wound to inspect it. He was bleeding heavily. Breath getting shorter, his whole body shaking from the pain, Sam needed to call 911 but his phone had been on the table.

He closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling several times to brace for the pain that would come when he tried to move. Still with his right arm, he pushed on the ground and turned his body to be on his stomach. His vision whited out as pain shot in his left arm. Trying to keep his head up, he looked for his phone.

God, the phone wasn’t so far away but he had to crawl to get there and he wasn’t sure he could do it. And if he did, he didn’t think he’d be able to use the device seeing how his arms were shaking. Heaving, Sam tried to crawl forward and succeeded until the pain was too much for him to handle. As his vision danced, the ex-hunter extended his good arm to see if he could touch the phone.

“Dammit!” Sam swore when he realized he couldn’t reach the device. He tried again but his fingers fell short of a few inches. Sam sagged on the ground, eyes still fixed on the phone. His mean to survival was right there… His lids became heavy, his body went numb and Sam lost consciousness again in a matter of seconds.

A knock startled Sam awake. He was still on his stomach, the pain an everlasting sensation that took over all his body. He was cold, now. And tired, so tired.

“Sam?” a voice called out, knocking on the door.

Sam moaned Peter’s name.

“Please,” he begged, half crying.

“Sam?” Peter asked again.

The ex-hunter tried to shout again but he couldn’t even do that. There were a few seconds of silence before Sam’s phone buzzed. If he could only answer. The phone stopped buzzing and for a moment, he panicked. If Peter didn’t hear Sam’s phone, he’d think he was absent, and he would leave Sam here, dying, alone in this room.

God, he didn’t want to die.

As a last resort, Sam took the mug that had fallen not so far away from him and threw it as strongly as he could against the cupboard in the kitchen. It missed its target by far but as the kitchen was tiled, the mug shattered as it crashed to the ground. Sam hoped it made a noise loud enough to warn his boyfriend.

Apparently, it did. Sam heard Peter call him again, then the was the sound of splintered wood, and an anguished cry.

“Sam!”

Feet hurried to Sam, knees knelt, hands removed his hair from his eyes. Finally, Peter caught his eyes. He had his phone to his ear.

“Please, send help! Someone was shot at the motel…”

Sam didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. He lost once again consciousness with Peter’s hand on his back.

*

_Life always finds a way._


End file.
